


The Intolerant Brightness of Your Charms

by FranceBe4Pants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Band Fic, Derek is a Failwolf, Falling Through The Ceiling AU, M/M, References to Drugs, because he's not a wolf, but his life ain't sunshine and rainbows either, sort of, there's a happy ending for everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FranceBe4Pants/pseuds/FranceBe4Pants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Laura signs Derek up for a lame band competition, some lame idiot falls through his ceiling. He never expects to fall in love with same idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Intolerant Brightness of Your Charms

**Author's Note:**

> There are small references to drugs use later in this story, so if you're triggered by that, be careful.

_“moments when my once more illustrious arms_

_are filled with fascination, when my breast_

_wears the intolerant brightness of your charms”_

-E.E. Cummings, It Is At Moments After I Have Dreamed

Derek doesn’t like surprises. Okay, scratch that, he hates them. And you could say that he is surprised by the guy _falling through his ceiling_.

The weirdest part? The guy doesn’t even yell, though he has to be hurt. Yes, covered in plaster and dust he is, but he just stands up from Derek’s sofa like falling through the fucking ceiling is something he does every day and begins to clean himself, spreading pieces of his ceiling everywhere in the process. It’s a wonder he doesn’t freak out when he sees Derek staring at him.

Derek can’t help but notice that he’s pretty, body lithe and hair crazy messed-up. His movements are hyperactive and awkward. He’s sort of adorable, with his lips, who are ridiculous, plush and pink. Especially when they move. Which they’re doing right now. He blinks.

“....and then- oh, welcome back on this beautiful planet, dude.” the guy says, staring at him. He has pretty eyes. They catch the sunlight and their color changes from deep brown into a lighter amber and Derek doesn’t know what to do with his body. ‘The quality of ceilings isn’t what it used to be, if you ask me.’ the guy says, grinning as if it’s all a joke to him.

Derek can’t do more than gaping at him, his attitude about the whole thing. He thinks his mouth is wide open, very charming, the Laura in his head says, but he’s too surprised to care. He talks  before he can stop himself, and he wants to die. He’s lucky Isaac’s out today.

“How am I going to explain this to my landlord?”

His voice sounds pissed, even to himself. He, even, can’t blame the guy for stepping back a little. By the way? Smooth, Hale. _‘How am I going to explain this to my landlord?’_  That’ll bring all the pretty boys to the yard.

Against all chances, the guy’s face brightens and he grins. “Don’t worry, big guy.” and he pats him on the shoulder, smelling like oranges and peppermint. It’s a good smell, Derek thinks somewhere in the back of his head. Also, fuck, when did he got this close?

“I’ll write a note for the insurance company. You know, with a statement that there really fell a guy through your ceiling, and you’re not just trying to run away with the money. By the way, I’ll need to get my floor fixed, or not?”

“Floor?” Derek croaks, watching the pale length of the guy’s throat while he rambles. “You’re my new upstairs neighbor?” The guys nods, his hair moving along with the frantic movement of his head. “I moved in four days ago. How do you know?”

How could’ve he missed that?

Four days ago, a loud group tried to move a couch and dropped it in front of Derek’s door, as if on purpose. After that, they decided to have a housewarming party. A party that kept him up all night, music and dancing people making the movie posters on his wall vibrate. On top of that, Derek gets up at 5:35 AM the last three days, because apparently, his upstairs neighbor needs a whole circus to help him wake up.

And the band practice. He gets it, Derek plays in a band too, but in his apartment? At midnight? Not necessary.

Let’s just carefully assume he isn’t a fan of his new neighbor.

But when the guy looks at him like he expects Derek to say something, he swallows at the sign of those pretty, pretty eyes looking into his.

The last thing he wants to do is scaring him off, so he does the first polite thing he can think of. While holding out his hand, he says; “Derek.”

The guy looks at his hand, and at his face, and back at his hand, and shakes it. “Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that, because who the fuck calls his kid Stiles, and steps back a little again.

Maroon 5’s The Sun echoes through his living room. Derek turns around and scans the room for his phone. He finds it on the couch, next to the book he was reading last night. It’s Laura, which means or trouble or family intervention. Great.

Stiles, who shoves his hands in his pockets and scratches the back of his head casually, says; “Right. Don’t mind me, I was going to leave, anyway.” With that, he walks out the door. Derek likes to pretend that he doesn’t totally stare at his ass. He is always good at denying things.

His phone rings again, the music blasting loud and demanding, and he answers it.

“What?”

“Hey, baby brother, I hope it’s beautiful evening for you, too. I have news.” Derek can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice, though his smile disappears rather quickly when he hears the word ‘news’. Laura’s news is never good news.  

“What news?”

“I signed you and your little band up for a competition. And there’s no getting out of this, Der-Bear.” Her voice is way too cheery. “I’ve already sent the email. Plus, it’ll be fun. Won’t kill you, having fun every once in a while.” Derek moves his phone away from his ear and stares at it, trying to process the things she just told him.

“You did what?!”

Laura snickers. He growls and hangs up on her, while hearing her cackling echoing in his mind. It’s time to inform his band about their fate.

Alpha Eyes are a four-piece band whose music comes from the place where pop and rock meet in the middle.

They're born in Beacon Hills, California, in Derek's garage, back when he still drums random rhythms that keep popping up in his head on his dad’s old drum kit in the basement. One day, Cora comes running from school with a phone number crumbled up in her hand, claiming that a band at her school needs a singer _and Derek’s singing is way better than his drumming anyway, right, Laura?_ Derek is a bit hesitant at first joining some freshmen’s lame project, but when he meets Erica and Boyd they’re surprisingly cool about the fact that he’s a junior.

Isaac follows not long after, tall and shy with fluffy hair, dazing them with his cover of Onerepublic’s Come Home. They have a short dip when Isaac stays with his aunt in Maine for a month after the news about the way his father treats him comes out, and another when Derek goes to college and he doesn’t know how to coordinate band practice with his family, mountains of papers and socializing.

Now they’re all in college, but it’s summer and they fill their days with the endless playing of covers in the garage of Boyd’s mom, who brings them snacks and makes Derek feel like he’s seventeen again.

Maybe Laura did them a favor with spicing up their summer a bit.

Erica crosses her arms in front of her chest and lifts an eyebrow at him. It’s the judging look, Derek recognizes that one, and he mirrors her expression until she looks away. Boyd looks up from where he’s stroking Erica’s ankle and shrugs.

“I don’t know. It could be good. We could use a bit more publicity.”

Isaac is throwing a can of Fanta with grape flavor between his hands, and where did he get that because that shit is fucking disgusting, while he looks like he’s thinking the whole thing over. “I think Boyd is right. Besides, it could be fun.”

Erica is trying to hide that she’s already agreeing and she’s not doing it very well. She huffs and unfolds her arms. “Let’s go and google this thing, then.”

Derek holds up his phone. “Laura sent me a link.”

Three days later he scribbles their name on a schedule that hangs on the door of a big auditorium. When he feels a hand on his shoulder he jerks and looks right in Stiles’ grinning face.

He can’t help himself, stares at him, marvels the sigh he is, when he’s not covered in pieces of plaster and dust.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and the ugliest green plaid flannel Derek has ever laid his eyes on, but it doesn’t make him unattractive. On the contrary, it makes his skin looks softer and his eyes...Derek never realized he was such a sucker for brown eyes, but Stiles eyes do things to _him_ that threaten to make him do things that don’t fit his reputation as frowning, leather-clad badass. Erica’s words, not his.  

Stiles waves a Sharpie in his face. ‘Can you move? I have to, you know..’ He gestures at the schedule. Derek feels like an idiot.

‘You’re in a band, too?’ It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Of course Stiles is in a band. Hence the band practice at four in the morning.  

Before Stiles can answer, a guy with a mob of dark hair and puppy eyes appears behind Stiles. ‘Dude, you’re finished yet? I’m dying to get a burger, and Allison wants a milkshake.’ Stiles turns around and moves the Sharpie around like it’s a wand or something. ‘Does it look like I’m finished, Scotty?’ He points the Sharpie at the guy and Derek fears for this guy’s eyes. The guy just smiles dopely at him, and Stiles rolls his eyes, pushes Derek out of the way and scrabbles something down on the huge list. In the meanwhile, he’s rambling to an intimidating red-head and her boyfriend, who has his arm wrapped around her possessively and looks like he's going to punch Stiles in the throat so much that Derek feels a little nervous.

Derek just keeps on standing there, feeling like an idiot, but then Isaac comes running at him, moving his arms and oozing panic from all his pores and Derek knows that means trouble. ‘Dude, Erica got into a fight with this chick, and she’s being slayed. Make sure she doesn’t break her fingers or shit, Derek. Please.’

Derek lets Isaac lead the way while he curses Erica’s short temper the whole way, until they’re outside and standing somewhere in a back alley, where Erica’s getting her ass kicked by a girl with dark hair and boots. Derek has to admit that she got moves, maybe even better than his little sister Cora, and she takes four material art classes a week. Since he’s been the one to hook her on material arts in the first place, he manages to pry the dark-haired girl away from Erica and drags the still insult snarling blonde out of there.

Boyd comes running from the building. ‘I leave you alone for ten minutes, and you manage to pick a fight with one of our future opponents.’ he scolds, but it’s obvious he’s worried. His expression softens when he looks at Erica rubbing her knuckles. ‘Are you alright?’

Derek looks away when he embraces her, her body small in Boyd’s arms. ‘She made fun of our name, of Derek and you. So of course then I had to hit that bitch.’ She throws her hair back, and Derek wants to snort with just how Erica that gesture is. ‘I hadn’t expected her to be a fucking Wonder Woman in disguise.’

A guy with dark hair flies over to the girl Erica was fighting earlier, and almost crushes her in his arms. ‘Allison! Allison, are you okay? Danny said something about a fight, and.....’ he stops talking when his gaze lands on Boyd and Erica. Derek recognizes him as Scott, Stiles friend. Stiles and the couple from before show up. Stiles frowns at Erica’s bruises, and turns to the girl. ‘Allison, I love you like my sister and shit, but you should apologize to her. Partly because it’s you know, polite, and your scary ass ex-colonel of a father with his mega gun collection has raised you that way, and also because Derek here looks like he’s gonna eat you if you don’t.’

Derek hadn’t realized that he is glaring at Allison until now.

Allison steps away from Scott’s embrace and huffs. ‘It wasn’t me, you know. It was her.’ She points to another girl with dark hair who holds a clipboard. Derek squints his eyes and can just read her name tag. _Jennifer_. Erica looks like she wants to jump the girl, but Boyd’s hand on her shoulder holds her back. She shakes Allison’s offered hand. ‘Then the blame’s on me. I shouldn’t have gone all Catwoman on you. Sorry for that.’

Stiles claps his hands. ‘Now, that’s solved, children. Let’s do introductions, because anyone who still lives after an Argent attack is worthy of being a friend of mine.’

Erica squints her eyes at him. ‘Aren’t you the guy who fell through Derek’s ceiling?’

Stiles bows ridiculously deep and his flexibility is giving Derek ideas. Wrong ideas. He grins ‘I’m glad Derek has spread the word about my fair complexion.’

Boyd lifts an eyebrow. ‘He said, and I quote; “Today, some idiot fell through my ceiling.” And after that, he complained for about half an hour about his building and rotten wooden floors.’ Isaac snickers behind his hand, drinking that stupid grape Fanta of his again. Derek should keep him off the stuff.

Stiles turns to him and winks. ‘So you’ve heard of me.’

Derek raises his eyebrows in silent judgement. ‘I’m Derek.’

Scott snorts. ‘Yeah, we know.’ Derek doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, but judging by Stiles blushing it’s not exactly a good thing. Whatever, he doesn’t have the time for drama.

After his fellow bandmates have introduced themselves, Erica keeps smirking at him and gesturing with her chin at Stiles, the red-haired girl pulls out her hand. ‘I’m Lydia.’ The douchey-looking guy does the same. ‘Jackson.’ Derek can almost smell arrogance on him. He decides that he doesn’t like him very much. A quick look at Isaac and Boyd says that they think the same.

‘And we’re Spiders On Speed, people! Thanks for having us!’ Stiles chirps, while bouncing around. Isaac almost chokes on his Fanta. ‘That’s your band’s name?’

Lydia glares at him and Derek doesn’t think for a moment that that is probably one of the most terrifying things he has ever seen. Not for a moment. Jackson snorts. ‘Says the guy whose band name is _Alpha Eyes_.’

‘Jax, quit being a douchebag for like, five seconds. Aren’t band names supposed to be ridiculous?’  Stiles is trying to keep the peace and Lydia hits Jackson on the back of his head. Allison smiles at Derek, with dimples, and he tries to make his glare less threatening. She could be cool.

Lydia grabs her phone from her pocket and sighs. ‘Guys, we better go inside. Prelims start in fifteen minutes.’ Derek turns to the rest of his band. ‘We should go inside, too. We left our stuff in some corner, anyway.’

They all walk back to the auditorium. Stiles rambles the whole way about the effects of drugs on spiders and their webs, something Derek doesn’t care about, but Stiles walks close to him, close enough that sometimes their shoulders bump together and Derek cares enough about that to listen to his ridiculous stories.

When they arrive, a middle-aged guy with big eyes and dark hair who looks like he hates his life spins a giant, bright-colored wheel. It stops on a bright pink box and the guy sighs. ‘...and the category for the preliminaries is Songs For You, But Not For Your Parents. Have fun with choosing something poppy and obnoxious. Try not to destroy my eardrums too much. Alpha Eyes first, and we start in ten minutes.’

Stiles jumps around and shakes Scott’s shoulder. ‘Dude! Dude. I’ve got so much ideas.’ He pushes Scott, who looks like he’s used to it, towards the rest of the band. ‘Let’s roll, bro.’ Derek smiles at his enthusiasm.

‘So, which song are we going to do?’

Isaac looks at him, eyes full of expectations. Erica twirls her hair around her finger. ‘We could do Secrets. Easy and we’ll blow them away. I brought the acoustic guitar, anyway. ‘ Boyd wraps his arm around her waist. ‘What about Maroon 5? We could do If I Never See Your Face Again.’ Isaac bounces up and down on his feet. ‘Or we could One More Night. I like the keyboard piece in that one.’

Derek thinks. He likes One More Night, too, and it’ll impress the jury enough to let them go through. ‘Everybody agrees?’ They all nod, and then they’re carrying their instruments to the stage. The guy with the big eyes helps them with Isaac’s keyboard, and introduces himself as Bobby Finstock. ‘The host.’ he says. ‘If you ever call me Bobby, I’ll make sure you won’t sing again. Ever.’ Derek rolls his eyes at that.

Then he turns the spots are on, and Derek blinks against the sudden light. ‘Hello people, we’re Alpha Eyes, and this is Maroon 5’s One More Night.’

Isaac starts with a melody that’s so familiar Derek could recognize it in his sleep. Erica and Boyd join and soon they’re nailing it. His eyes flick to Stiles, who claps along with the music, Derek is almost high on the rush of happy chemicals and performing, keeps on singing about crossing his heart and only staying one more night and before he knows it, the song is over. They're getting the loudest applause they’ve ever got.

After them, a band called Neato of the Corrupted play a song that’s so cheery it hurts Derek in his very soul. He’s helping Isaac with getting his keyboard back in the case, when he hears Stiles behind him. ‘You guys were awesome!’

Derek can feel himself getting pink. Erica looks at him and snickers.

‘Are you due after them?’ Derek decides to ignore her and gestures to the band on stage with his thumb. Stiles shakes his head. ‘After a group called Alien Nosejob. We’re closing act.‘ Derek nods, feels stupid, and keeps nodding. Isaac saves him.

‘Der, you carry the keyboard to my van?’ he says, puppy eyes out and Derek can feel himself cave in. He sighs. ‘Just this time. You’re perfectly capable of carrying the stupid thing on your own.’ Isaac opens a new can of grape Fanta, pats him on the chest and smirks. ‘But that’s why we keep you around, Hale. Your muscles.’

Erica cackles and punches him on the shoulder. ‘C’mon, let’s move.’

Countless One Direction, Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry songs later, Derek stares at Stiles with his mouth hanging open.

Spiders On Speed are amazing. Derek can’t think of anything than about the fact that Stiles’ voice is doing things to him. Because of course he had to pick Talk Dirty. Of all songs. Derek’s ears are probably the same shocking shade of pink as Allison’s skirt, since his friends are throwing him amused looks, Erica the most, something that worries him a bit.

When the act is over and Finstock and his long-suffering face has told them to come back in two days, Stiles, covered in sweat and high on adrenaline, approaches him. Derek doesn’t know to do with his body, so he folds his arms in front of his chest and tries to keep his meltdown inside when Stiles asks him what he thought.

Erica joins them. ‘Yeah Derek, what did you think?’ she blinks at him innocently. He decides he hates her. He grumbles something about all things good and Stiles beams at him. After that, Scott calls him over for ‘a burger the size of my head, dude, adrenaline makes me hungry’ and his three friends all turn to face him. He needs to meet new people.

‘What?’ he growls. Erica throws her hands in the air. ‘You can’t be serious.’ Boyd just gives him a vaguely disappointed look and Isaac opens a new can grape Fanta while shaking his head.

‘You totally wanna bone him, dude.’ Isaac points out after a giant sip. Where does he buys that stuff? Now that Derek thinks about it, he hasn’t seen him without it in the past few weeks.

He pretends as if he’s unbelievable interested in the band schedule. He doesn’t want to talk about his gigantic crush on Stiles. Besides, shouldn’t they concentrate on the competition? His eyes catch something.

‘Guys, you better read this.’ he says, panic absolutely not creeping in his voice. Erica rolls her eyes. ‘You just don’t want to admit your boner for-Holy shit.’ Isaac hooks his chin over Derek’s shoulder. ‘We have to change lead vocals?!’ The puppy eyes are back, full power now. Erica pets his hair while looking at Derek for some sort of explanation. Derek holds up his hands in defeat. ‘It’s not like I make up the rules, guys.’

They all turn to Boyd, the only one who is not freaking out because he’s cool like that. Boyd shrugs. ‘Erica and me could sing. We practiced that one duet. You know, from the radio.’

Erica turns around so fast her hair twirls like a blond hurricane. ‘Babe, you just reminded me again why I love you.’ she breathes. She kisses his on the mouth, rough in her enthusiasm, and marches to the van, Derek and Isaac on her heels. They’re still in the dark about the whole situation and Derek doesn’t like it. Boyd just looks amused. Erica throws the door open and grins at them. ‘Get in losers,’ she says. ‘We gotta create some awesomeness.’

‘That one duet’ turns out to be The Way. Derek first wants to protest because _Ariana Grande_ , but Erica and Boyd are amazing. They rock majorly, if you have to believe Isaac. Derek’s drumming is a bit rusty, but with Boyd’s guiding they all sound like they know what they’re doing.

Derek waves at Erica and Boyd when they drive away with Boyd’s truck after their last practice of the night. A bit later, after too much cold Chinese leftovers, Derek finds himself staring at the place where the hole in his ceiling used to be. Yesterday, his landlord had sent someone up to fix it, so the paint is still fresh. He scrunches his nose against the smell. Isaac’s in his room and the apartment feels strangely quiet, like his very own oasis of rest and peace.

He can hear Stiles’ voice through the brand new wood, excited and loud, talking about chords and pizza. Derek chuckles when he catches a sentence. _‘C’mon guys, it’s time for some bada bing bada boom.’_

The next thing Derek hears is music, a melody he recognizes as Hey Brother, and it’s good, but then he looks on his clock and realizes that it’s two in the morning.

He stands up and marches to Stiles’ apartment. When he’s staring at the golden numbers that form 36 and, in a scribbly handwriting next to them, Stilinski, he hesitates. But someone starts a guitar solo so loud that the door vibrates and annoyance rises in his throat. He pounds his fist on the door and before he knows, a very surprised Stiles has swung open the door. ‘Oh, hey Derek.’ he says casually, like it’s not two in the fucking morning. There is an electric guitar slung over his shoulder, and for a moment Derek gets lost in an image of Stiles playing guitar, his long fingers moving fast and his face concentrated on wrenching every note out of the instrument.

Stiles clears his throat. ‘Derek, I’m sorry that I have to ask, dude, but what are you doing here?’

‘What am I doing? What are _you_ doing, you mean.' He crosses his arm in front of his chest. ‘It’s two o’clock in the morning. Why am I hearing guitar solos?’

Stiles blinks sheepishly. ‘Because I’m playing the guitar?’ he says like he doesn’t really know why Derek is making such a problem out of it. He knows he’s making a problem out of it, but that has more to do with the whole ‘two in the morning’ thing than with anything else.

‘Stiles, who are you talking to?’ Lydia’s face pops up behind Stiles’ shoulder. She grins when she sees Derek and flips her hair. ‘Oh, Derek. Hi.’

‘Lydia.’ he says, his voice cool and still annoyed. ‘Look, I know you have to practice, me too, but it’s two in the morning, so it would be fantastic if you guys could keep it down or something.’ He is aware of the fact that his voice goes harder and more towards a growl at the end of his sentence. Isaac would call this his ‘asshole voice’, and it’s rude, but he really wants to go to sleep.

Stiles’ expression darkens. ‘Well sorry, Your Highness, we didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.’ Lydia hits him on the back of his head. ‘Stiles!’ She looks at Derek again, who is in the middle of a yawn. ‘He’s right, Stiles, if only for a little bit. Scott fell asleep on the couch half an hour ago. Maybe we should call it a night.’

Stiles looks at her with eyes full of betrayal. ‘Lydia!’

She smiles at him. It’s not a happy smile. It reminds Derek of sharks and evil geniuses and his uncle Peter a bit too much to be a happy smile. ‘We should call it a night.’ she says, tone firm and eyes hard. Stiles looks at Derek, back at Lydia, at Derek again, and throws the door in his face.

And with that, he’s dismissed.

He walks back to his apartment, falls down on the couch again and stares at the spot on his ceiling, thinking of Stiles. His infectious grinning all the time, bright eyes, his warm smell. And Derek’s totally aware of the fact that smells don’t have a temperature, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. He’s pretty sure he falls asleep with the image of Stiles’ smile on his mind.

When he wakes up, his brain thinks it’s the best time to come up with a conclusion. Stiles is fantastic. Also, he’s an annoying asshole who thinks it’s funny to start an elephant race in his apartment at _three in the morning._

Derek stands up on the couch and pounds a few times with his fist on the ceiling. The sounds stop for a moment, as if they’re insulted that someone dared to interrupt them. They proceed to continue ten times louder.  Derek groans, jumps from his sofa, stomps up the stairs, who rattle under the impact from his boots, and throws open Stiles’ door.

Stiles looks at him, surrounded by what looks like a Billy, a hammer and lots of screws, blinking innocently at him.

Derek freezes, and when his brain has processed the scene in front of him, he tries not to commit homicide to his potential love interest.

‘What the fuck.’

Stiles moves his attention back to the manual in his hand. ‘Yes, Derek?’ he says, casually like he isn’t putting obnoxious IKEA furniture together at three in the morning. Derek wants to punch something. He wants to punch Stiles. Or not, because Stiles would be in pain and that is about the most horrible thing in the world.

He sits down on the couch instead, quietly judging Stiles’ skills, who are nearly non-existent. ‘Why are you putting together a Billy at four in the morning?’ he says, his voice not exactly friendly. Stiles looks up, twirling the screwdriver between his long fingers. ‘Because I couldn’t sleep.’ he says matter-of-factly, and now Derek just wants to cry.

‘Stiles, it’s four in the morning!’ he snaps, instead. ‘If you do that, I can’t sleep either. And I really like my sleep.’

Stiles rolls his eyes and presses the manual in his hands. ‘Help me,’ he says, brown eyes big and wow, he just totally overrode Isaac’s puppy face. ‘The sooner this is finished, the sooner you can go to sleep again, dude.’ he points out.

Derek makes sure his sight is as long-suffering as he feels, and slides from the couch to the floor, next to Stiles’ tangled limbs.

An hour and a half later, Stiles’ Billy is finished and Derek feels himself falling asleep on the couch, surrounded by the smells of oranges and peppermint.

‘You want eggs, big guy?’

Derek opens one eye and Stiles, who is sipping from a huge mug probably filled with coffee, judging by the smell and Stiles’ ecstatic expression every time he swallows, waves. Derek grunts something that should resemble an agreement. Stiles scrambles from the couch and wow, were they lying on the couch together?

‘Awesome,’ he says, though it’s sarcastic and sleep-muffled. Not a morning person either, Derek thinks. He can’t stop thinking about how well they would fit together.

He shoves away his daydreaming when Stiles shows him an egg sandwich. He dives in and thinks about moving in with Stiles and his cooking skills.

Of course he has a mouth full food when he realizes Stiles is not wearing a shirt.

He swallows and tries not to look at all the pale skin on display, dotted with moles and freckles, at the surprisingly muscled frame of the guy opposite of him, and he fails miserably. Stiles puts his plate on the counter, stretches his arms, scratches his stomach and looks at Derek, who looks away. ‘I’m gonna take a shower. There’s coffee in the pot, if you want, and your shoes are under the couch.’ Derek nods and tries not to think about Stiles in the shower. Naked. Wet. He fails again.

When he hears the water running, he stuffs the leftover of his sandwich in his mouth, puts his plate on the counter, grabs his shoes and practically flies down the stairs. He leans against his door, he tries not to have a panic attack, thinking about last night and morning. A morning that involved a shirtless, sleep-ruffled, adorable Stiles.

Luckily, he’s saved in the form of his phone angrily spilling music. Derek doesn’t even stare at the caller ID, but just answers it. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, boss, we’re all wondering where you are.’ Boyd. Derek sits down on his couch and tries to sound casual and absolutely not like he just had a mental breakdown.

‘Why?’

‘Practice started half an hour ago.’

Fuck. Derek looks on his watch and is surprised when he sees that it’s noon. How long has he been sleeping? Why hasn’t Isaac called him? ‘Shit, Boyd, tell them I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be there in ten.’ he says, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder while trying to put one shoe on. When he has both on without any injuries, he ignores every traffic law ever written and makes it to practice in time.

Boyd just judges his red cheeks silently and Erica has a smug look on her face Derek doesn’t want to know the reason behind. For some reason, the whole day, he feels like a weird combination of ecstatic and nervous, and he catches himself smiling at nothing multiple times.

They nail practice and afterwards they order pizza in Derek and Isaac’s apartment. In the middle of the first Bourne movie, it’s Erica’s turn to pick, his doorbell rings and Derek jumps up, fully expecting the delivery guy. It’s Stiles, instead.

Derek doesn’t know what to say to him. He pushes his hands in his pockets and leans against the doorframe. ‘Something you want?’ he says, while trying to sound not too rude.

Stiles holds up his jacket. ‘You left this.’ Derek snatches it out of the air. ‘Thanks.’ he says. Stiles looks at him, amber eyes bright and he swears his heart has stopped beating. ‘I see you at the prelims tomorrow.’ Yeah, Derek thinks, see you tomorrow, but it’s like he has lost his words, so he just waves. Stiles waves back and bounces back up the stairs.

When he closes the door, Isaac looks at him, eyes heavy and sad. ‘No pizza?’

Derek shakes his head and throws his jacket over the nearest chair. ‘No pizza. Just Stiles returning my jacket.’

Erica turns around, eyes gleaming wickedly. ‘And how did Stiles got your jacket in the first place, oh Derek dearest?’ Derek turns away from her face and mumbles something that has to sound like; ‘MaybeIstayedathisapartmentlastnight.’

Erica pauses the movie. And honestly, that should’ve been his first warning. Erica loves the Bourne movies. She never pauses them, not even that time when Isaac had set the microwave on fire. She stands up and pushes him down in an armchair. ‘Well, Der. What are you waiting for?’ she says. ‘I want details.’

Derek regrets ever meeting her.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Finstock paces around on the stage, spot following his every movement and microphone making sure his manic monolog is heard by everyone. ‘That was Spiders on Speed with their not too horrible cover of Hey Brother by Avicii, the last act of the night. As you all know, it’s now time to let the jury decide who of these teenage punks can go through, and who can go home and cry in their pillow. We’ll be back in twenty minutes.’

Derek slaps away Isaac hands because his version of nervous is angry and violent. ‘Don’t chew on your nails. That’s disgusting.’ Isaac stares at his rattled All Stars. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles. Great. Now Derek feels guilty. He grabs a can grape Fanta from Isaac’s keyboard case and hands it over to him. ‘Here,’ he says sort-of-friendly. ‘Sorry.’

Erica is twirling her hair around her fingers. ‘We’re through.’ she mumbles. ‘We have to be through. We rocked the stage, gave our song an original twist. We’re through...’ and then she starts the whole mantra all over again. Derek is fiddling with his drum sticks, almost letting them slip through his fingers and then catching them again. The only one who’s not losing his shit is Boyd, who is absolutely not looking at them, iPod earphones firmly plugged in his ears.

‘Hey losers.’

Derek turns around so fast he’s positive he leaves a few trivial body parts behind.

‘Laura?’

His sister laughs at his face. Derek can’t help but notice that she looks good, happy. ‘I thought, why not surprise you and your merry band of misfits?’ She winks at Isaac, who turns so red Derek considers being worried. ‘Someone has to cheer for you guys.’ she says and sits down on one of the wooden boxes that are cluttering the backstage surface.

For a while they talk about nothing but life, and how college is, Laura’s job as a doctor, her new boyfriend and Derek let’s himself be comforted by the sense of home that always surrounds his sister.

He’s swept rudely back into reality when Finstock climbs back on the stage, carrying a pink envelope. He tenses immediately, eyes glued to the scene.

‘Well, here we are again. I hope you losers ate a whole lot of snacks, my paycheck depends on the income of the cafeteria.’ the crowd laughs, and Finstock opens the envelope. ‘I’m not kidding. Anyway, here’s the big moment.’ He cleans his throat. ‘The bands who are through are...Neato of the Corrupted, Digital Democracy, Spiders on Speed, Kharma Sunset, Alien Nosejob, Instant Epidemic and Alpha Eyes.’

Derek feels about a thousands pounds lighter when he looks at his band. ‘We’re through.’ Erica dances around. ‘I told you so!’ Boyd smiles at her and pulls her in for a hug. Isaac is bouncing up and down, Fanta slushing dangerously.

Laura hugs him. When he wants to say something, she shakes her head and grins. ‘Shut up.’

‘Okay, I get it, everybody is very happy,’ Finstock is still on stage and pulls a colorful wheel from somewhere behind him into the light. ‘But we’re not done, yet. We still have to pick a new category for the official first round!’ The crowd roars and Finstock spins the wheel.

The black arrow lands on a dark blue and red box. ‘Rock Classics. Real music. Have fun, kids, and remember to write down the song before the round starts.’ with that, he walks away from the stage.

Laura pulls at Derek’s jacket. ‘C’mon baby brother. Time to celebrate.’

****

‘This one,’ Boyd points his finger.

Derek stares at the name of the song. ‘I don’t think I know it,’ he admits. Boyd stares at him. ‘Derek, it’s Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ he says slowly. ‘You heathen.’ he punches him affectionately. It’s the morning after the prelims, and they’re looking for a song to perform in the first round.

Boyd opens YouTube and puts the song on. Soon enough, Derek finds himself tapping along with the rhythm. ‘Okay, this one. What does the rest thinks?’ he says while googling guitar chords. ‘Erica already agreed and I talked to Isaac this morning.’ Isaac and Erica are both getting after practice snacks. Derek hopes on not too much grape Fanta.

‘Alright then.’

****

The first round feels like a dream. Spiders on Speed does something with a lot of guitars and Laura has a sign this time, with _glitter_. She approaches him afterwards, ruffles his hair and says; ‘Mom and dad would have been proud of you.’He pulls her in for a silent hug because that’s how they work.  

They go through to the second round, which results in them having to choose from famous hip hop songs, brought to them by Finstock, who looks once again like he regrets his life choices. Derek sort of hates hip hop, but Isaac owns a surprising various stash of music and insists on them doing No Diggity.

Derek just raises his eyebrows and thinks of the time when Isaac had dragged them all to Pitch Perfect, even though he swears the movie has nothing to do with it.  

Then Kharma Sunset gets kicked out after their butchering of Smack That and Derek is reminded that this is still a competition, no matter how infectious Stiles’ smile is. He suddenly remembers that Alien Nosejob has already left the race.

Finstock spins the wheel again and the category for the third round is 80’s Smash Hits. He looks pained when he practically begs them not to butcher this, please, there’s only so much he can take before he goes feral and rips their heads off. Which, okay, unexpected.

They’re on their way to Isaac and Derek’s apartment, singing along to the mix that Boyd made when Derek went to college. They stop at a diner for burgers and milkshakes, and when they walk in the first thing Derek sees is Stiles’ crazy hair. He stops in the middle of the hallway, and Erica smirks at him.

‘Scott!’ Isaac waves enthusiastically. Scott looks up and elbows Stiles, pointing at them. For a moment Derek has to resist the urge to punch Isaac, with his habit of making friends way too fast. Erica walks over to the booth where Spiders on Speed has collected for their after performance dinner and grabs a chair from the nearest table.

‘What a coincidence.’

Boyd pushes Derek in a chair next to Stiles and gives him a menu. ‘Order and then pass to me.’ Derek looks at him pleadingly, but Boyd doesn’t yield. Next to him, Stiles is rambling about robots, journalism and isn’t that creepy, Lydia? The red-head nods and Derek feels a momentary flash of jealousy at the smile Stiles throws at her. He passes his menu to Boyd without a word.

A blond waitress comes over to them to get their orders. Stiles orders ‘the biggest portion of curly fries you have, lady, please.’ and Derek melts a little inside when he’s delighted like a little kid. He bites in his own burger and tries not to stare too obviously.

Allison asks which song they’re gonna perform for the third round. Derek shrugs. ‘We’ll decide tomorrow.’ he says after swallowing. He reaches for his milkshake when Stiles opens his mouth, gigantic mountain of curly fries disappearing in an impressive tempo. ‘I already know which song we’re going to do.’ He looks a bit nervous and Derek just wants to hug him, because Derek clearly has a problem. ‘I was rewatching Glee yesterday evening,’ he says and Derek raises his eyebrows because Glee, ‘and I was thinking about doing Jessie’s Girl.’

‘Glee.’ Jackson looks up from his salad. ‘Let me get this clear, Stilinski. You want us to do a _Glee_ song?’

Derek wants to scowl at him for making Stiles’ happy face go away. Stiles stuffs another load of fries in his mouth. ‘Ih as y othrs avorit.’ He swallows. ‘It was one of my mother's favorites, and I like this version.’ Derek just can’t handle the sad, nostalgic face Stiles is wearing now, so he jumps right in. Even though you aren’t really supposed to talk about some things with people you don’t really know. He just wants Stiles to smile again.

‘My dad was more of a ABBA guy, and my mother used to dance around on Rolling Stones and stuff. It was a constant battle.’ He smiles at Stiles, who gives him a tiny smile back, and next to Scott Erica looks at him. She leans over to Boyd and whispers something in his ear. Derek really doesn’t want to know.  

Everyone lapses into silence after that, Derek nudges his foot carefully against Stiles’ and Stiles looks up, and Derek really hopes his face is radiating a silent are you okay? and not something vaguely serial killer-y, like Erica says it does sometimes. But Stiles gives him a small nod and leaves their feet pressed against one another.

Jackson mutters something that could be an apology even though Jackson doesn’t really seems like a guy who does apologies. Stiles just smiles at them and munches on his fries. When they’re gone, he looks so disappointed that it’s adorable. Derek is tempted to buy him a new load.

Boyd stands up. ‘Look, I don’t want to ruin this party, but we have an early morning tomorrow.’ he says, while glancing at Erica and back to Derek, who looks up, surprised, but Boyd’s eyes speak for himself and he stands up. ‘Yeah, okay, let’s go.’ Erica and Isaac follow them quickly.

When they’re outside, Derek turns to the rest of his band. ‘What the hell?’  Boyd shrugs. ‘I couldn’t take your heart eyes anymore.’ Erica snickers over his shoulder. ‘Ooh babe,’ she coos in Boyd’s ear, ‘he was not the only one making eyes, you know.’

Isaac leans against the door of his van. ‘Yeah, you guys are ridiculous. Especially with the whole parents sob story. Seriously, Derek, just propose to him already.’

Derek thinks of Stiles in the morning, cooking eggs and humming along with the radio. He thinks of having that in his apartment, while the sun peeks in through the blinds. Isaac looks pained. ‘You’re shitting me.’

Erica pats his shoulder. ‘S’ for your own good, big guy. We just want you to stop pining.’ She grins. ‘Our alpha deserves to be happy, you know.’

Derek rolls his eyes.

****

They’re at Derek’s apartment. Boyd puts Chinese on plates, Isaac and Erica are crouched over his laptop to find a song for the third round and Derek is unfolding Isaac’s keyboard. Again. He doesn’t know how it keeps happening.

‘Isn’t that the soundtrack from Derek’s favorite movie?’ Erica asks all of a sudden. ‘Don’t You Forget About Me?’

Isaac beams. ‘It’s also in Pitch Perfect! We have to do this one.’

Derek agrees. Boyd sighs. ‘See if you can find drum charts on the internet.’ Isaac whoops and hammers a few keys triumphantly. Derek grabs a plate and grins at Erica with a mouth full of rice.

Don’t You Forget About Me turns out to be a very simple song. So simple that Derek worries that it’s not enough. He complains to Laura about it.  ‘Shouldn’t we give it a twist? Maybe change the guitar chords a little bit?’

Laura sighs. ‘Der-Bear, the power of the song is its simplicity. If you take that away, the audience will not appreciate it.’ Her tone changes. ‘Oh, and by the way, a little birdie told me you had a sleepover, baby brother.’

Derek is tempted to hang up on her. ‘Laura.’

‘Why haven’t you introduced me to the gentleman caller yet?’ she asks brightly. Her next sentence comes out a lot more threatening than the first. ‘Derek, you’re not pining again, are you?’ When he stays quiet, she groans. ‘Der, I swear, I’ll come over and kick your little ass.’

He groans, too, and buries his head in his arms. ‘Laura, shut up.’

It’s then when he hears banging above him. And if that isn’t enough, loud guitar music seeps through the plaster. Derek resists the urge to throw with anything and hangs up in the middle of Laura’s monolog about dating and intimacy and future family dinners.

He’s sure Erica yells something at him when he storms to the stairs, but he can’t really hear anything but the thumping of his own heart, because he hasn’t seen Stiles in two days and this is a perfect opportunity to stare at him and be a little bit more up in his personal space than society finds to be acceptable. And yeah, that does sound creepy, but Derek doesn’t care.

He pounds with his fist on the door. ‘STILES!’

Stiles opens the door with an annoyed expression and a guitar slung over his shoulder yet again. ‘Oh, hey. It’s you.’ He frowns. Derek hates it. Stiles should always smile. ‘You don’t look happy.’

‘I am not happy.’ Derek says flatly. ‘And you know why? My posters are vibrating off the wall because _a certain someone_ decides to play guitar so hard I’m kind of wondering why your eardrums aren't perforated yet.’

He knows he’s being an asshole, and he’s kind of hating himself for it, but then someone shouts; ‘Don’t pitch a shit-fit, Hale.’ and his guilt disappears with the speed of light.

Jackson appears from behind Stiles with a stack of papers in his hand. ‘The rent contract clearly states that loud noise is allowed between the hours of eight in the morning and ten in the evening. Do you have an official noise complaint form?’ Derek shakes his head, a little bit shocked by Jackson sudden business-like attitude.

‘Then don’t be a bitch about it.’ The blond guy gives him a toothy grin that reminds Derek of Lydia way to much, and saunters back in the apartment. ‘Wonderful to see that you’re putting that law degree to good use, Jax!’ shouts Stiles over his shoulder.

He smirks at Derek. ‘Will that be all?’

An inappropriate voice in the back of his head whispers to Derek that Stiles’ smirk is surprisingly hot. He shakes away that voice and forces himself to be annoyed. He spins on his heels and stomps down the stairs. ‘See you tomorrow, sour alpha!’ Stiles yells after him. When he walks back into the living room, Erica asks what he’s smiling about and he scowls at her. ‘I’m not smiling.’

‘You were,’ she says, squinting her eyes suspiciously at him. ‘You were using muscles in your face I haven’t seen move before.’

‘Shut up, or I’ll show Boyd the video of you getting drunk right before he left for college.’ Erica gasps. ‘I thought you had erased that.’

‘You’d be surprised at my stash of potential blackmail I have lying around here.’

****

Derek wakes up by the sound of guitar music. He looks on his alarm clock and resists the urge to get up and smother Stiles’ with his pillow. It’s five in the morning.

But he remembers Jackson’s words, and jumps up, smirking. The smirk doesn’t leave his face his whole way up the stairs to Stiles’ apartment.

He knocks on the door. Okay, he almost breaks his fist on the hard, wooden surface. Stiles throws the door open. His hair is even crazier than usual and he’s wearing too big Star Wars pajamas. The infamous electric guitar is back, and Derek wants to smash it to tiny pieces and throw it in a dumpster. And possibly set the dumpster on fire.

‘Stiles,’ he says, and he hopes the threatening tone of his voice speaks for himself. Stiles’ fingers are on the guitar and he looks at Derek from under his eyelashes. ‘I know, okay? I’m sorry for the noise, but Derek, you don’t understand! I have to do this.’

Derek leans against the doorframe. ‘Explain.’

Stiles takes a deep breath, grabs his wrist and drags him inside. Derek pries away the long fingers and sits down on the couch. Stiles tugs his hair and it looks a little bit like he’s going crazy, so Derek stands up and puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Stiles, are you okay?’

He looks at him, eyes big and amber and he’s sort of trembling, and Derek has no clue what to do. He steps a little closer. ‘Stiles, you have to tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help you.’ Stiles sinks down on the couch, pulling Derek with him and they end up in a heap of tangled limbs, Stiles on top of Derek and he holds his breath, waiting.

‘I’m maybe freaking out a little bit. Over the third round.’ Stiles admits, his forehead not touching Derek’s only by inches. ‘My dad’s coming to see us, and I’m afraid I’ll fuck my mom’s favorite song up.’ He heaves and Derek is sort of afraid that he’s going to hyperventilate.

‘Okay, Stiles, it’s all okay. You won’t fuck up, believe me.’ Derek puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. Stiles rubs a hand over his face and looks down on Derek. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

He looks calmer, his eyes bright again and Derek is absolutely not melting. Suddenly, Stiles smirks. ‘Well, since I have interrupted your precious beauty sleep, you wanna grab some food?’

‘Yeah.’ Derek stands up from the couch and realizes that he isn’t wearing a shirt. ‘Can I borrow a shirt or something?’

Stiles nods, walks to his bedroom and throws back a Batman t-shirt. ‘Here.’ Derek tries not to looked grossed out by _Batman_ , because Wolverine or Iron Man are way better, and pulls the shirt over his head. ‘Thanks.’

‘Alright,’ Stiles circles his own fingers round Derek’s wrist and tugs him towards the door, ‘Come on, I’m starving, freaking out burns a lot of calories’

 

Derek finds himself in his favorite diner, steaming coffee and waffles in front of him and listening to Stiles rambling about why Batman is awesome.

They have a discussion for about fifteen minutes, after had Stiles scoffed at the mention of Wolverine, at which Derek had to say something about Batman. Stiles looked at him, smirked, and said; ‘Oh, big guy, it’s on.’

Suddenly, an arm lands on the table, making their cups shake. Derek stares up in annoyance, only to find _his friends_ stare back at him. The arm on their table belongs to Erica, who’s currently grinning at him. ‘Hey, Der. Having fun?’ Isaac snorts, and wiggles his eyebrows at him. Boyd hits him on the back of his neck.

Derek officially hates his life, and with that all the people in it. Except for Boyd. He loves Boyd, mainly for the fact that the guy doesn’t seem to give a shit about drama.

Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘I’m educating Mr. Alpha here in which ways Batman is better than Iron Man.’ Boyd snorts and Erica elbows him in his ribs. ‘Boyd and I are still avoiding the subject.’ she says, ‘and while I’m glad Derek has found someone with a profound taste for comic books, we’re actually here to steal him back. Practice time.’

‘If he left any stuff at yours last night he’ll pick it up after practice.’ Isaac says. With that, he grabs Derek’s wrist and drags him to the van.

When they’re outside, Erica hits him on the back of his head. ‘What the hell, Derek? Why didn’t you tell us you two did the do together?’ Isaac turns at him, puppy eyes on full display. ‘That’s something you tell your friends, dude.’

Derek looks at them. ‘What.’

He turns to Boyd, who is obviously judging him. Derek feels his stomach crash through the floor, a wave of nausea flowing over him as if he has walked into a brick wall. ‘Where the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Isaac said you didn’t sleep in your bed last night, when we saw you and Stiles getting breakfast together, and we kinda put one and one together.’ Boyd explains. He claps him on the back. ‘Congrats, dude.’ Erica winks. ‘Atta boy.’

Derek feels like someone punched him in the throat. They think he had sex. With Stiles. He thinks of smooth, pale skin and plush lips, and he _wants_ , fuck. He blinks away his daydreams of Stiles naked and turns away from his friends.

‘Sorry to disappoint you, but nothing happened. He was making noise again, but when I went up to complain, he was having a mental breakdown. I calmed him and he showed his gratitude through food.’

Derek remembers the shirtless morning from three days ago, thinks about the fact that he was more than relieved to see that he’s at least covered up. He doesn’t need to see Stiles’ naked anything, really. But it’s not just fucking. Fucking he can do, he’d just let Erica find him a pretty pale boy to pound in some shitty club’s bathroom stall.

This is Stiles, his smile, eyes and the way he squints his eyes when he is thinking about a comeback that will shatter your argument to fucking pieces. He doesn’t want to fuck some slut who will wander off when they’re done. He wants Stiles, he wants to make him breakfast and crash on the couch with him, he wants to argue whether they’re going to watch Batman Begins or Iron Man 3. He wants to kiss him whenever he can, shape apologies against those full lips after they’ve fought about stupid and important things. He wants to unwrap him like a fucking present, wants to see him so worked up that he stumbles over his own feet. He wants to suck bruises into the soft-looking skin under his jaw that last for days, wants to carry him upstairs and wake to light creeping through the window and across Stiles’ sleeping face.

Opening the door of Isaac’s van, he sits down in the front seat, and buries his head in his hands. He thinks of bright eyes and abs and shoulders and an infectious laugh and that one stupidly adorable dimple between his collarbones.

So he might be falling in love with Stiles.

It’s not a disaster. Not a big disaster. More like, a baby disaster. He looks at Erica, who tuts when she sees his face. She sits down next to him and strokes his arm. ‘Oh, sweetie.’

‘That bad, huh?’ Boyd says, eyes warm and understanding. Isaac looks at him like he’s an idiot for noticing only now, and Derek thinks that’s kind of insulting while he is trying not to have an internal crisis.  

For a couple of minutes, he just basks in the glow of his friends petting him. Then he gets up. ‘Let’s go home.’

Erica smiles fondly at him. ‘The show must go on, oh wise Alpha?’ He resists the urge to poke out his tongue like a five-year-old, and rolls his eyes instead. She cackles and punches him on the shoulder.

****

The next day he regrets everything, especially because Erica has told his _sisters_. His phone shows him eighty-two missed calls and _a hundred and thirty-one_ texts, from both Cora and Laura. And though he’s happy that Cora’s back in the country, he still ignores every form of contact.

Which is of course why they’re both at the desk when he gets into his building, groceries heavy in his hand. ‘Please go home,’ he groans.

‘But we just wanted to say hi,’ Cora says fondly, ruffling his hair. He hunches his shoulders like he doesn’t enjoy it. He really missed her.

‘Hi, good bye, enough contact for the next three weeks.’

He walks to the elevator. That turns out to be a disastrous idea, since he’s now locked in a tiny space with his two very curious sisters, who, of course, followed him. He hates his life.

‘So, Derek,’ Laura starts. Derek wants to die.

‘What?’

Cora glares at him. ‘Der, come on. You know what.’ The door opens and Derek almost jumps outside.  Of course, Stiles is there, gawking at him the moment he sets a foot outside the elevator.

‘Derek?’

He looks like he just rolled out of bed, his hair messy and still creases from his pillow on his cheek. ‘Good morning to you, too.’ Derek says, awkwardness radiating from him like heat. His sister both peek over his shoulder.

Stiles waves at them. ‘Hey,’ he points at his chest. ‘I’m Stiles.’

‘Oh,’ Laura sighs from where she’s looking at Stiles as he rubs one hand over his face, adorably, and Derek wants to disappear. ‘Oh, Derek.’

Stiles glances at him. ‘You’re having a good day?’ he says, avoiding Laura and Cora, whose eyes are trying to burn holes in his temple. ‘My sisters have once again invaded my life.’ Derek says flatly. Stiles laughs at that. Derek swallows when he sees the long stretch of his throat. ‘Well, I see you tonight.’ he says, turning around.

Derek stares at his slowly disappearing back as he walks down the hall. Suddenly, he turns around. ‘Hey, have a good third round,’ he says. ‘And may the best win,’ he winks and Derek feels his cheeks heat up. ‘Same.’ he grunts, and digs his key from his pocket.

Once he has opened the door, the first thing Laura does is throwing the liquor cabinet open, regardless of the fact that it’s eleven in the morning.  She fills three glasses with wine and almost slams Derek down on the couch.

‘So, that was the lucky boy.’

Cora drowns her glass in what looks like one sip while Laura’s eyes still inspect him. ‘You can’t hide from your problems forever,’ Laura warns. ‘Says the twenty seven year old drinking her brother’s booze instead of going home and save people’s lifes. Has to be way more interesting than your little brother, right?’ Derek asks. Laura smiles sweetly at him. ‘Deep down, I know you love me.’

Derek grabs the bottle. ‘Sometimes I sincerely doubt that,’ he mumbles while pouring himself another glass.

Of course that’s the perfect moment for Isaac, Erica and Boyd to barge into his apartment.

‘Laura!’ Erica shouts, while jumping on the couch next to Derek. ‘Where are you guys talking about?’ Isaac asks, while opening a new can of grape Fanta.

‘Derek’s hopeless crush on that Stiles boy from upstairs.’ Cora says. Erica’s eyes start to gleam evilly and Derek needs way more alcohol for this.

Out of the blue, Boyd sits down on the couch. ‘I’m only going to say this once, Hale,’ he warns, eyes on Derek. ‘You’re ridiculously gone for him, he’s ridiculously gone for you. If nobody wants anything the other doesn’t want, why haven’t you done anything about it yet? Life is short, man. Plus, I’ve seen the way he stares at your ass,’ he adds, smirking.

‘Is that your way to say that Derek should bang him, baby?’ Erica asks gleefully from her place on the couch. ‘Are you finally agreeing that he should get his grumpy head out of his ass and go for it?’

‘I believe that Derek deserves nice things,’ Boyd says firmly, giving Derek a serious look, and whoa, he loves Boyd. ‘Now I need a beer,’ he adds, kissing Erica’s forehead as he passes her to get to the fridge.

****

The third round is nerve-wrecking. Alpha Eyes rocks, even Cora admits that, and it’s intoxicating. Spiders on Speed are fantastic and Stiles looks at Derek from the stage to wink at him. Derek gives him a thumbs-up.

Later, someone throws a party Derek knows he heard Stiles mentioning. He hopes against all odds they don’t run into him, or any of his friends.

Derek is not known for having luck on his side. Which explains why, within five seconds, a very enthusiastic Scott jumps out at him. ‘Derek? You came to a party? You don’t really seem like the type.’

‘I was bullied into it,’ Derek says, while looking pointedly Erica’s direction. She just smirks and tugs Boyd towards a guy Derek thinks is called Danny. He feels lost.

He tries to spend the night not looking like he’s lurking in dark corners. The last thing they need is to get kicked out because someone thinks Derek is a stalker.

During the night, Erica keeps feeding him drinks, which he empties in the nearest plant, and Isaac introduces him to a steady stream of chatty, pretentious musicians, even though Derek doesn’t really like people. He needs fresh air.

When he steps outside, the cool night welcomes him and he inhales, relieved to be away from the crowd. He’s just not that much of a party person. Or a people person. After a minute of two, Stiles staggers outside and Derek has to bite down a smile when he sees the enormous grin the other is wearing. Of course Stiles was going to be a happy drunk.

He holds up a beer bottle. ‘Dude, you wanna beer?’ Derek takes it, snorting as he almost falls over. He pulls him over to a picnic table and plants him on a chair. He sees that Stiles is not wearing any pants. Which, unexpected. He has nice legs, long and pale and dotted with moles and freckles.  

‘Stiles, you are not wearing any pants right now.’

The other nods solemnly. ‘Yes. You see,’ he gestures with his beer to his legs, ‘I lost my pants, but I found myself. And that’s what really counts in life.’

‘You’re drunk.’

Stiles just beams at him and takes a swig from the beer bottle in his hand. ‘Yup. It’s wonderful.’

He stares at Derek. ‘You know, if I had 47 dragons, I'd give you one, but only one. Cuz you’re awesome. But dragons are more awesome.’ He frowns. ‘Awesome-er.’  Derek really doesn’t know what to say to that. ‘Okay then.’ When Stiles almost falls off the picnic table, he sighs. ‘Look, Stiles, you’re really, really drunk.’

Stiles squawks indignantly and flops his hands around. Derek fears for the life of his beer bottle. ‘I’m not _that_ drunk! Look I can still do this,’ he says, and  proceeds to slap Derek. Not that it hurts. His hand stops and just touches Derek's face for a minute while he mumbles 'Nice.’

Derek is really trying not to laugh. Stiles’ fingers slide further down and rest on his lip. ‘Smile. Smile, smiley, smiley Derek, you should smile more. S’nice.’ he slurs. Derek takes his hands and puts them on Stiles’ lap, who grins at him. ‘Okay, yeah, ‘m a tiny bit really drunk. If drunk was a fruit, you think I’d be a pomegranate?’

Derek shakes his head. ‘I don’t know, Stiles.’

Stiles frowns. ‘I think so. I like pomegranates.’

Suddenly, a panicked Isaac storms outside on wobbly legs. ‘Derek can you call my wallet? I think I lost it.’ He holds up his cellphone.

What.

He drags Isaac back inside, looking for Erica and Boyd. Erica looks like she’s furious, which is no surprise, since alcohol tends to have that effect on her. Derek still isn’t talking about her graduation party.

‘Shuddup! You’re really lucky ‘m drunk, cuz now ‘m not gonna kick ass.’ She stomps with her heels on the ground. ‘Stop laughing! I'll wear your ass like a hat!’ she yells, and pokes a giant guy in the chest.

Boyd rolls his eyes and pulls her away from the amused guy, who looks like he bench presses the Eiffel Tower for fun. ‘Come back!’ she shouts, while making grabby hands. Derek fucking hates his friends.

She turns around in Boyd’s arms and pats him on the chest. ‘Ya know, you could go to a strip club, baby, but only if you promise to say "please" and "thank you." Strippers have feelings, too.’ Derek and Boyd share a look. ‘Babe, I wasn’t planning on going to a strip club.’ Erica looks positively giddy at that. ‘I know baby. And you know, that’s why I’m so love you.’  

Scott throws the door open while waving with a bottle of what looks like Jaeger. Stiles staggers in after him. Derek sighs when he spots the bottle of vodka snuggled in his arms. Stiles almost pushes it in his face. ‘Ya know whaddey say,’ he says cheery, ‘liquor before beer...you’re in the clear, beer before liquor.......you’re in the clear!’

Derek shakes his head, pushes Stiles down on a chair and turns to Boyd. ‘I’m going to get the van, and then we will get these idiots home, shall we?’ Boyd nods, too busy with combing his fingers through Erica’s hair.

By the time everyone is in the van, Stiles has gotten in a fight with a bush, and in an argument with a handrail, Erica has violated a homeless cat and Scott has fallen down the stairs while yelling; ‘Fuck you stairs!..... No, I'm sorry, I'm not really mad at you.’

Boyd had taped the whole thing on his phone and Derek has asked him to send the whole thing to him. For future blackmail purposes.

Derek carries Lydia, who passed out, up the stairs. He dumps her on the couch and drapes Scott across a chair. He brings Stiles to his bedroom, found after opening many doors,  and pries off his shoes. After that he covers him with a blanket. Stiles snores softly, adorably scrunching his nose to something in his dream. He mumbles something Derek’s likes to believe to be his name.

Erica jumps him when he comes back in the apartment. ‘Derek, I've drunk like, all the alcohols!’ Derek groans and walks, with her on his back, to the couch. He hears Isaac stumbling around in the kitchen. ‘Let's see what's in this cabinet!’ By the sound of it, he throws open every cupboard in the kitchen.. ‘There's nothing interesting in this cabinet. Let's move on to the next cabinet. I live here, I should know if there are interesting thingies in the cabinet.’ He slams the door hard enough to make the counter rattle. ‘One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom.’ He always quotes Socrates when he’s drunk. Derek hates philosophy students.

‘Derek, ‘m hungry.’ His puppy eyes are ridiculous. Derek puts a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and pushes him into bed. ‘No, you’re not. Go to sleep.’ he orders. He puts Boyd on the couch with a already snoring Erica and steps into his bedroom. In his dreams, he can still hear Stiles mumbling his name.

****

The next morning, he almost thrust the plate with waffles in Stiles’ sleepy face.

‘Oh!’ His eyes light up as Derek half falls into the hallway. ‘You brought food! Such a good Alpha,’ he winks, burying his face in the plate.

When he walks in, Lydia and Scott are in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Lydia looks like she wants to kill someone. Stiles holds up the plate like a peace offering. ‘Derek brought food.’

Scott’s face brightens. ‘Food?’

Minutes later, Derek stares at Stiles, who wolves down the food in what feels like seconds. He  doesn’t even see him chew. He really questions his taste in men.  Oh, who is he kidding.

He goes back to focusing on his coffee, instead.

His phone begins to blast The Sun. Derek groans. Laura’s ringtone. He picks up.

‘What?’

Laura laughs. ‘Had a fun night, little brother? Cora and me, we’re waiting for you. Isaac says you’re with _Stiles_.’ He groans. ‘Laura.’

‘What-’  he can practically  hear the smile that is pulling at her lips. ‘Oh.’ She laughs and Derek kind of wants to punch her. In a completely brotherly way that is not, like, sibling abuse. If that is even a thing. He doesn’t like the places his mind is going.

‘Laura, shut up. We’re eating waffles.’ he force whispers to his phone. Stiles looks funny at that, but continues to munch on his food. ‘Is waffles a codeword or something?’

God, he hates his life right now.

When he hangs up, Stiles is in the middle of telling...Something. Everybody’s busy watching Stiles flail his arms around. It's mesmerizing, really and Derek wants to— Derek blinks, looks away and smiles carefully at Lydia, who squints her eyes at him and doesn’t smile back.

He glares at Stiles’ form, which is a lot safer than staring dreamily. It clearly doesn't have the desired effect because Stiles when turns around to look at him, he keeps smiling at him. In fact,  the longer they stare at each other, the darker Stiles' eyes get, an deep ombre, and Derek's just thinking about doing something like dragging him into the nearest private room when Lydia clears her throat. Derek laughs, shakes his head and tries to quench the butterflies in his stomach. ‘I have to go. We’ll see you guys at the quarterfinals, Sunday.’

Stiles waves. ‘Yeah, see ya.’

Derek slams the door behind him and proceeds to curse his life with every step down the stairs. He stomps inside, dives straight for the bathroom and locks the door behind him. ‘Leave me alone,’ he says flatly, mainly to his sisters.

‘Derek Hale, you open the door this instant.’ Laura says, using the threatening tone of voice that she copied from their mother.

‘Making your voice sound like mom’s won’t make me obey you, Laura.’

Cora snorts. ‘You know she tries. Tell us, how was lover boy?’ Derek shifts uncomfortably on his feet. ‘Lover boy? You’ve seen us together, what, once?’

Cora grins. ‘Once was enough. I recognize true love everywhere, big bro.’ He can hear the smirk in her voice. He hates his sisters.

Someone pounds his fist on the door. ‘Derek, get out! I needed a shower, like, yesterday.’ Isaac. Derek grins, because Isaac is clearly feeling miserable and talking to him in his hangover voice. ‘Don’t know, Isaac. Pretty comfy in here.’

‘Hale!’ Isaac is probably sort of breaking his fist on the door. ‘Cut the crap and let me in!’ Derek allows himself the laugh and then unlocks the door with a dry click. ‘Alright, calm down, princess.’ Isaac glares at him and slams the door close.

‘Isaac!’ Erica’s voice joins the shouting. ‘I hate you. I was sleeping, fucker!’ Isaac’s response is muffled by toothpaste. ‘Then go sleep in your own apartment.’ Erica looks angry enough to pull the door off its hinges, but Derek stops her.

‘Okay, enough. Where’s Boyd?’

Boyd was the one who baked the waffles this morning. Derek does really like him best.

‘The gym.’ mumbles Erica. She must be feeling horrible, especially when Boyd left without morning cuddles. Derek sighs and drags her to the kitchen. ‘Sit. I’ll make coffee.’ She looks vaguely ecstatic at that. ‘Such a good Alpha,’ she coos. Derek hits her on the back of her head.

He hasn’t turned on the coffee maker, or Laura slides into a chair.

‘So, when are you gonna bring lover boy home?’

Cora jumps on the counter and pokes him in his ribs. ‘Yeah, we want to have him over for a proper family dinner.’

‘Never.’ Derek says flatly.  

Laura pouts at him. 'Don't be like that, baby bro. You know you'll have to introduce him, someday. God knows you’ve been imagining it.' And with that, she saunters out of the kitchen. The worst thing is that she’s right.

****** **

The category for the quarterfinals is Happy Songs, and Derek is, unsurprisingly, having a pretty hard time choosing one.

Erica had laughed her ass off when Finstock read the category out loud. ‘Jesus, any of you see our Derek singing a happy song?’ she’d hiccuped.

Derek is going to prove her wrong. He’s going to choose the happiest, cheeriest motherfucking song ever and they’re going to play it and win the damn round.

That’s why he finds himself, once again, on Stiles’ doorstep. This time, not to complain about noise, but to get advice. The truth is, Derek is not really into overly upbeat music. But he knows someone who is. Well, judging by their behavior.

‘Derek?’

Stiles’ voice brings him back to the present. ‘Stiles.’ he says, panicking. Stiles lifts an eyebrow. ‘Dude, something up?’

Derek nods. ‘Yes, actually. I need your help.’ At that, Stiles laughs so hard he almost falls over. Derek catches him, yanks him upright and feels himself go pissed. ‘I’m serious, idiot!’ he hisses, and realizes that that may not be the smoothest of all tactics out there. Stiles wipes away the tears from his eyes and takes a deep breath. ‘Dude, I believe you, Just...you seem like such an independent alpha who don’t need no man. Especially not a man like me. What can I say? I was just surprised. C’mon in.’

Derek follows him to the kitchen, where Stiles pushes a chair towards him and proceeds to sit down in one in the most insane way Derek has ever witnessed.  He’s twisted over the back of his chair, his body completely defying gravity and the laws of physics altogether. Derek wants to drag him from the room and see what kind of laws they can defy in the nearest bedroom. Bad thoughts. Focus, Hale.

He explains the situation to Stiles, who keeps staring at him. It makes Derek a bit uncomfortable.

‘Okay, so let me get this straight.’  Stiles says, chewing on a thumbnail. ‘You need me to choose a happy song for you for the quarterfinals?’ Derek nods.

Stiles keeps staring at him and and he sees the different shades of brown swirling through his irises. Also, his eyelashes, Derek notes, are absurdly long.

Unless he’s much mistaken, Stiles’ gaze drops to Derek’s mouth in a flash, almost unnoticably, a development  in the...something that’s been brewing between them. It makes an annoyingly big part of Derek’s brain want to celebrate.

‘Okay,’ Stiles slowly says. ‘I can help you, Alpha McGruff, to choose a cheery song.’

After so much cheery songs that Derek could swear his soul’s hurting along with his eardrums, Stiles sighs and buries his head in his hands. ‘I’ve got like, one option left.’ Derek crosses his arms in front of his chest. ‘I told you, no One Direction.’

Stiles blinks up to him. ‘What? No, it’s not One Direction. Quite a new band. The Vamps?’ Derek shakes his head. ‘Don’t know them.’ Stiles looks a little bit relieved at Derek’s not-immediate rejection. ‘Okay, big guy. Give it a chance.’

They decide on a song called Smile and after, Stiles suggest food. Derek looks out of the window and sees that it’s already dark outside, so he says yes. He tries to point out to himself that he needs food, and he’s not just doing it to please Stiles. He texts the band to let them know that he’ll not come back to the apartment for a while, and ignores Erica’s lewd comments and Isaac’s heart eyed smileys.

Stiles almost drops the white boxes with takeout in his enthusiasm. ‘Fuck, I was like, really hungry.’ he mumbles with a full mouth five minutes later.

‘Let me guess, help me choosing a song for quarterfinals burns a lot of calories?’ Derek says.  Stiles grins at him, eyes sparkling with something Derek doesn’t dare to analyze, ‘Yep.’

Derek rolls his eyes, trying not to go with that infectious smile. ‘Eat your food.’ he grumbles after a moment, nudging Stiles gently in the side with his elbow.

After dinner, they pop in the newest Star Trek movie, and the last memory Derek has is that of Stiles’ fingertips ghosting over his arm.

****** **

Derek wakes to the sound of tapping on a keyboard. He rolls over and finds in Stiles sitting on the couch, covered by a red hoodie two sizes too large, and typing fiercely. There’s coffee on the low table beside Derek and he hunches up to reach it. After, he slides back into the warmth of the blanket that’s casually thrown over him to watch Stiles doing whatever he’s doing. Occasionally, he chews at a string of the hoodie, sips from his own coffee, and Derek is suddenly engulfed by a feeling of home and affection.

‘Hey, you’re awake.’

Derek pushes himself up. ‘Yeah.’

Stiles gets momentarily distracted by something on his laptop and begins to type furiously. ‘Watcha doin’?’ Derek asks, eyes half on his coffee. Stiles looks up. ‘I was looking for sheet music for the song. You know, drum tabs and stuff.’

Derek doesn’t know what to say, so he settles with a quiet; ‘Thanks.’  

Stiles goes back to his laptop. ‘It’s nothing.’

Half an hour later, they’re both had breakfast and it’s time for Derek to go back to his band. He really doesn’t want to leave Stiles, who still looks a bit sleepy and really fucking adorable. ‘Thank you, again, for, the whole-’ Derek makes an awkward gesture towards the laptop on the table between them.

‘No problem,’ Stiles shifts on the table they’re leaning against, smiles at Derek, and just like that the rest of the room fades out, except Stiles as the iridescent, bright center and Derek’s having trouble breathing.

He turns around and walks briskly away. When he’s walking down the stairs, a paper airplane hits him on the shoulder, and Derek stamps on it, laughs and throws the ball of crumpled paper back up.

‘Bye, Sourwolf!’ Stiles shouts, voice echoing through the stairwell.

He feels invincible.

****** **

The quarterfinals flow over him, barely remembering anything but Stiles’ eyes and the angry faces of a pair of heavily muscled twins, whose band got kicked out of the race.

Derek tells about his song picking session with Stiles, and the movie after, and the band lets him babble like a teenage girl for a few minutes until Erica cuts him off. She laughs, tears are streaming down her face.

‘Never change, Derek, babe. Never. You just don’t have game, do you?’

Derek crosses his arms,  insulted by that. He has game. He knows girls who swoon when he says so much as ‘hello’ to them. People think he’s hot.

Isaac laughs and shakes his head when he sees his face. ‘Derek, you’ve just described about six proper kiss opportunities, and you’ve let them all slip away. You really don’t have game.’

‘Shut up, Lahey.’

‘God,’ Boyd says, clearly amused with their, Derek’s drama, ‘it’s like you’re starring in your very own romantic comedy. You should bring him home sometimes. Invite him for dinner.’ He pats him on his shoulder.

Derek looks horrified at that. ‘How about no. I want him to like me, not to have you guys interrogate him over the lasagna.’

‘We would never,’ Boyd says, in the same fond voice Laura uses when she thinks Derek is being ridiculous. On that moment, like they fucking planned it, Spiders On Speed leaves the building and Stiles runs to Derek. ‘Hey, just wanted to tell you that you made my day, asking me for helping you, sour alpha.’ He pats him on the cheek and sprints back to his friends.

‘Happy to oblige.’ Derek grunts and stamps down on the pleased feeling in his stomach. Thank god he doesn’t have the balls to tell Stiles he makes his day every fucking day. Stiles winks at him from his Jeep and Derek gazes back at him for a moment, and then looks away, cursing his stuttering heartbeat.

****** **

Semifinals comes with Road Trip Jams, and honestly, Derek wants to fucking punch the creator of these categories in the head. Road trip songs? Luckily Boyd suggest the Kid Rock song they all used to sing on the trips they took when Derek was in senior year.

The song reminds Derek of summer, the smell of Twizzlers and Erica and Isaac’s bickering in the backseat. It’s a good one.

They already know it by heart, which means that practicing is not necessary, so he spends his time with cleaning the apartment and doing his groceries at 2:00 AM instead. Isaac is hanging out with Scott, Erica and Boyd are on a date, and Derek is blissfully, absolutely alone.

That is, until his sisters appear on his doorstep with arms full of takeout. ‘Intervention.’ Laura says, while pushing him inside, Thai food tucked inside her armpit.

Sometimes Derek really hates his life.

Now, being a perfect example.

‘You should just fuck him,’, Laura says later, her face buried in her take out box. Derek throws a chopstick in the general direction of her head, and she ducks away, frowning at him.

‘I’m serious. Or, at least, find someone who looks like him and get it out of your system.’

‘When was the last time we had dinner and she didn’t try to make unnecessary changes in my life?’  he asks Cora, who looks way too amused for his liking. ‘Middle school.’ she says, mouth full of shrimp. ‘By the way, I don’t want to fuck him. It’s a bit more than that.’ he mumbles, pretending to be focused on his noodles. Laura tuts, then suddenly abandons her box of curry to jump over the coffee table, and grabs Derek’s chin between her fingers.

‘Why are you touching me,’ he says flatly. ‘You know bad things happen when you touch me.’ Laura rolls her eyes. ‘I only dyed your hair like, once, baby bro. Anyway, I think you’re being a chicken shit, and you should just make a move. Before he gets away and decides on a life without you in it.’

‘Leave him alone,’ Cora chides. ‘If he wants to miss out on an opportunity like this, let him. God knows he’s way too stubborn to let us force him into making his life a happy place.’

‘That’s ridiculous and you know it,’ he snaps.

Laura pats him on his head. ‘We only want you to be happy, Der. And that’s not gonna happen as long as you’re pining after that boy.’

Cora jumps up. ‘I sincerely suggest that we get drunk.’ Derek  himself. Drinking is only for hopeless causes and breakups. ‘No. Cora, I’m fine, i swear.’

Laura ignores him completely and smirks. ‘The Hale way?’

‘The Hale way,’ Cora confirms, while shrugging on her jacket. Derek knows trouble is coming .

He’s right. Two hours later he’s so drunk he can’t even sit up straight anymore. He lets his head rest on the bar and sighs, trying to breathe all his feelings out at once, so there’ll be gone. He doesn’t want them anymore, doesn’t want to deal with all the complications and insecurities they bring.

Cora shakes her head in disapproval when she sees him.  ‘Drinking rum? You must be serious about him.’

‘Yup,’ he sighs in her blurry face. He’s too far gone to make sense at all. ‘It’s my favorite. You know why rum is my favorite? Cuz pirates drink rum.’

Cora chuckles and hooks her arms under his armpits. A small part of him feels ashamed that he got so plastered over a _boy_ , for God’s sake. So plastered that his sister probably has to carry him to his car. ‘Alright big guy, this pining party is officially over,’ she hauls him up, ‘Let’s get you out.’

He passes out on the way home, movements of the car and the sounds of the night putting him to sleep. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely hears Laura yelling “the life you lead is dirtier than my feet”, but he really doesn’t care, just wants to stay here, with his face buried in his own jacket. Warm and content and safe from feelings that scare him with the effect they have on him. The fact that he can light up by just the sign of a pair of bright eyes, that he gets all warm inside by the sound of a carefree laugh. He doesn’t like it, loved his life the way it was before some idiot fell through his ceiling and threw his life around.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s only because Cora pokes a finger in his cheek. ‘Wake up, Der.’ her finger rubs over his stubble. ‘You have to shave, by the way.’ He tries to climb from the backseat. ‘I shave today, in like, two weeks.’ Again with the not making sense.

Cora laughs at that and winds an arm around his waist. ‘Upstairs.’  Derek only complains once about dizziness behind his eyes before Cora throws him on the bed.

She hands him his glasses. ‘Put them on, you’re exhausted, you need to undress, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna do it. I still need to put Laura on the couch, and get her shoes from under the passenger seat.’

‘Cora, my glasses aren't working.’  

‘Your glasses aren't on, stupid.’

‘That's because I can't find the switch.’

Erica’s voice filters through the hazy fog that hangs in his brain. ‘Is he drunk? Delightful.’ Derek points an accusing finger at her. ‘You went to hang out with Boyd today. Why don't you hang out with me anymore? Is it because you stole my Netflix account?’ Erica stifles a laugh and falls down next to him. Small hands stroke his shoulder. ‘I’ll never stop hanging out with you, Alpha. Now stop bitching and go to sleep.’

The last memory Derek has is that of Boyd climbing behind Erica to join them on the bed. He falls asleep with a smile on his face and amber eyes on his mind.

******** ** **

He wakes slowly, with his head mashed into his pillow, the kind of coming back to the world that only ever happens after a too-deep night's sleep, or a coma that’s too deep to be anything but alcohol-induced. Derek groans and knows it’s probably the alcohol-induced coma.

The previous evening is fuzzy and distant, buried in the back of his mind now that there’s nothing but sunshine to look forward to. Well, there is definitely sunshine. It makes the skin on his face hot and cruelly bright flashes of orange flaring up beyond his eyelids. What kind of person sleeps with the blinds open? He cracks open one eye and slumps back into his pillow.

Of course.  

He sleeps with his blinds open. He hadn’t closed his blinds last night. Or rather, Cora hadn’t closed his blinds last night because he was too drunk to do anything but lie on his bed and mumble stupid shit.

Someone elbows him in his kidney. ‘Stay still, idiot. Some people would like to sleep a little bit longer.’ Erica mumbles in his ear. Derek sighs and rolls out of the bed.

He stumbles to the kitchen and watches the coffee maker drip while waiting for his toast to finish. Laura is draped over his couch, bare feet poking out, still dead to the world. She’s even snoring a little bit. It’s hilarious.

He amuses himself with looking at her for a little while, then digs his laptop up from under a pile of pillows and listens again to the song they’re supposed to perform in the semifinals.

Tomorrow.

Fuck, the semifinals are tomorrow.

Boyd walks in on him stalking a hole in the ground while muttering ‘tomorrow’ to himself every second or so. The drummer sighs and puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

‘Dude, calm down.’ He turns around and shouts; ‘Erica! Isaac! Intervention in the kitchen. Now!’ He pushes Derek in a chair and stalks over to the counter, where he makes the most passive-aggressive cup of coffee ever made.  

‘Alright babe, who pissed in your cheerios this morning?’ Erica pads into the kitchen in one of old Boyd’s work out shirts, twisting her sleep-ruffled hair into a plait as she walks. She’s still bleary eyed and her voice has the hoarse undertones of lingering sleep. Isaac saunters in after her. ‘Whatever you want to say, make it quick. I told Scott I’d meet him in fifteen minutes.’

Boyd puts the coffee on the table and swats at Isaac’s grabby hands. ‘Guys, do we have any reason to be nervous for tomorrow?’

Erica huffs indignantly. ‘You’re kidding, right? We’re awesome. Finstock is gonna shit his pants when he hears us.’ Isaac quirks an eyebrow that should make Derek feel threatened. ‘Is our Alpha saying that we have reasons to be nervous?’

Derek shakes his head. Isaac unfolds his hands from his mug and takes a sip of Derek’s coffee. ‘Good. Cause we rock. Majorly.’

After that, everybody goes their respective own ways. Derek doesn’t think once about the competition, too busy with making sure his curry doesn’t overcook and his iron doesn’t burn a hole in his favorite shirt.

Laura chatters away about little things and they end up with a stupid rom coms filled evening on the couch. He doesn’t think about the competition once.

 **********  
  
******

The day of the semifinals starts with an announcement for a party _after_ the semifinals.

Derek is already planning on absolutely not drinking, because Stiles will be there as well and who knows what he’ll say with him in the room and a barrel full of rum at his fingertips.

He wakes up and almost falls out of bed when his nerves catch up with him. That’s weird, because he doesn’t really do nervous. His version of nervous is aggressive, and he’s not great at dealing with it.

A couple things end up thrown around his room as he tries to figure out what to wear and when he looks for his sheet music. Not that they need sheet music for a song they’ve been playing since senior year. Eventually he just gives up and sits in the middle of his room wearing sweatpants.

His phone rings. Cora. ‘Big bro. You’re worrying, aren’t you? Break anything yet?’ she says, amused. Derek grumbles a little bit and hopes it passes as an answer. She chuckles. ‘Yeah, thought so. Listen, I expect you to let Laura borrow your car so she can pick me up for tonight.’

‘No.’ He’s not an idiot. Not anymore, at least.

He can almost hear Cora’s disapproving frown. ‘Derek.’

He sandwiches the phone between his shoulders. ‘Listen, the last time you borrowed my car, it was covered in edible underwear and Malibu. For a full two weeks.’ he says, while putting on some socks.

Cora sighs. ‘Fine. Stiles is coming as well, so maybe his friends want to give us a ride, instead.’

Derek almost drops the phone. ‘No, wait,’ he says, fully knowing that he fell for an old trick but none of Cora’s threats are empty threats.

‘Six thirty, Der. Laura wants to have dinner first.’

A couple of hours later, after the final practice that has left him emotionally drained, Laura and Cora both show up on his doorstep, dressed a bit too sexy for Derek’s liking. He lets them in and proceeds to set his features in a semi-permanent scowl. Cora smirks the entire time it takes him to get ready. Sometimes her smile grows sharper, and the evil look in her eyes makes him worry if she takes a little too much after Uncle Peter.

Laura observes him with squinted eyes when he munches on a bacon-cheeseburger with extra chili and onion (he’s nervous, okay) later but he ignores her in favor of watching the waitress being chewed out by the manager for dropping ice cream on a group of customers.

Cora finishes her milkshake and rolls her eyes. ‘Laura, eat your food. You can talk to Derek after the party tonight.’ Laura focuses on her fries after that, but Derek doesn’t seem to be able to lose her watchful gaze the entire night.

And when he says the entire night, he means the _entire_ night.

He can feel her judgemental look burning holes in him when he greets Spiders on Speed. He almost falls of the steps to the stage when he turns around and finds his oldest sister still staring at him.

Luckily, the only thing he sees when he’s on stage is the way Stiles stares at him. His eyes are practically glittering and he mouths the lyrics along, something Derek has caught him doing a few times before. It makes him feel warm all over.

Spiders on Speed is, like always, the closing act and they’re doing a Rolling Stones song that seems to be written for Stiles. He owns it. After they’ve cleared the stage, Finstock appears, and Derek is once again hit by the nerves. Someone slides an arm around his waist. He looks to the left, fully expecting Laura. It’s Stiles.

Together, they hear Finstock ripping open his stupid neon green envelope. They hear him announce that the finale will be in San Francisco, in a proper bar, and that the competition committee will fully cover the bills.

‘...and the bands that will battle each other in the finale are Alpha Eyes and Spiders on Speed!’

The crowd erupts in the biggest, loudest applause that Derek has ever heard in his life. Stiles almost jumps him. ‘Sourwolf, can you believe it?!’

Derek’s hands slide down to cover Stiles’ ones and while Stiles turns the full thousand watt of his grin on him again, Derek freezes, because this-

This is the tipping point into something he’s been dreaming about for weeks. Stiles’s arm slides along his side, warm under his leather jacket, and Derek’s thumb has started rubbing circles in the skin of Stiles’s wrist when he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes are practically illuminating and his pupils are huge. He’s swaying on his feet from happiness and Derek wants to scoop him up keep him _forever_.

Derek licks at his lips nervously, anticipating and watching the insanely talented person in front of him. Stiles’s eyes flicker down to his mouth., and when did he become this person, Derek wonders. The moment breaks, and in that breath, Derek drags him closer, cups his jaw and kisses him.

Stiles makes a noise, low in the back of his throat and wiggles his hand from under Derek’s to wrap his arms round Derek’s neck, curls his fingers in his hair at his nape. Derek leans into him, their bodies pressed tight together in the middle of the crowd as Stiles parts his lips and Derek licks into his mouth, heat curling in his abdomen at the warm feeling of Stiles everywhere they’re touching. Then he pulls back.

‘You know, you’ve never been in my apartment. Not since that time that you fell through the ceiling, I mean.’ Derek licks his lips nervously, anticipation thrumming through him like a deafening, voiceless beat. Stiles smirks at him and intertwines their fingers.

‘Maybe it’s time I check it out, then.’

The drive to Derek’s is filled with music and light chatter, but when they’ve reached the elevator, Derek leans forward and kisses him, borderline filthy just because he can, and the moment he yearned for so much is back.

The seconds tick by in a blur until they reach his bedroom, and Derek leads Stiles inside, snapping the door shut behind them and twisting the lock.

‘So, will you make me breakfast, tomorrow?’

‘We’ll see.’  Derek says, but thinks _Yes, yes I’d do it forever if you want. I’ll kill the spiders, you can win at Mario Kart and play your stupid guitar all day long. Just, please, stay_ , and to keep that particular bit of mortification from ever seeing the light of day, he goes in for a kiss.

******** ** **

Derek wakes up early the next morning - way too early - when he feels the mattress dip on his right side. He rolls over on reflex, blinking against the bright morning light, and his mouth falls open when he realizes he’s staring right at Stiles. He remembers everything that happened last night, flushes crimson and suppresses the urge to bury his head in his pillow, while giggling like a teenage girl.

Stiles wakes up and yelps. ‘Gah!’ He leaps to his feet, clutching one hand at his chest. ‘You?!’

‘Good morning to you, too, sunshine.’ Derek grins. He feels fantastic. He and Stiles had sex. And it was fucking awesome. Maybe he can make pancakes. In a moment. For a little while, he just wants to bask in the morning-after glow that covers the moment right now.

Stiles then proceeds to fall out of bed in his haste to get away from Derek, which is not a good sign at all.

‘What am I doing here?!’ Stiles shouts, and he quickly sits up, seeing something a lot like panic in Stiles’ eyes. That makes Derek’s stomach drop like a fucking rock, makes his momentary bloom of excitement evaporate like holy water flicked at the portals of hell. ‘Because if this was your idea of a joke, Derek, I swear to God I’ll kill you. We have semifinals today, okay? No fucking around on semifinals day.’

What.

‘Stiles, the semifinals were yesterday.’ Derek says carefully, moving to the edge of the bed, the sheet dropping dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t know what is going on, yet, but he doesn’t even have a chance to figure it out before Stiles’ entire expression shifts.

He looks, Derek thinks, like he’s about to be sick. Which is not good.

‘What’ Stiles says flatly. ‘Shit. Fuck, what happened? Did I drink? No, you don’t lose memories with drinking. What the fuck.’ he keeps muttering to himself while he lowers his head in his arms. No matter how fucked Derek feels, he feels more terrible for Stiles.

‘Did-did you roofie me?’ Stiles asks, voice no more than a croak, and Derek freezes. ‘Was this - is this some completely fucked up plan where you try to win the competition by - by fucking me ?’

‘Stiles,’ Derek knows he has to take matters in his own hands, because Stiles is looking like he has a panic attack and he doesn’t know if he can handle that. ‘I didn’t roofie you,’ Derek states calmly, but on the inside he’s freaking out. He can’t just sit here and listen to this, Jesus Christ, he can’t let Stiles believe that about him can’t let him think he would be that kind of person, not for a second longer. Stiles’ gaze is scanning the room, as if he’s looking for some kind of escape route, which makes Derek feel horrible. Every instinct Derek has screams at him to keep Stiles here, where he’s safe. He lifts himself from the bed, doesn’t bother to cover himself with any of the crumpled blankets.

It’s time to asks a doctor’s advice on this.

‘Stiles, I have to make a call, okay?; Derek asks, voice soft, his body moving toward Stiles - not quite hesitantly, but cautiously, because Stiles looks ready to bolt. ‘You can just take a shower or something. It’ll be okay, I’ll be right back.’

‘Okay,’ Stiles says, voice flat and emotionless. He turns around and walks into the bathroom. Derek waits until he hears the shower and then dives for his phone. It rings once, and then a groggy voice says; ‘Goddamnit Derek, what do you want?’

‘Laura?’ he pants. ‘I need your help.’

Laura’s voice sounds a lot more alert when she answers; ‘What happened?’ This is the Laura that saves lives in a hospital back in New York. Doctor Hale. It kind of reassures Derek that he has a professional to back him up. He tells her the whole story. He leaves out, obviously, the part where this was probably the best night of his life and he’ll never forget it for as long as he lives.

‘You need to ask Stiles if he takes any medication.’ Laura says, her voice absent, like she’s looking something up at the same time.  Derek puts the phone on speaker, braces himself and knocks on the bathroom door. ‘Stiles?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you take any medication?’

The water stops running. ‘Adderall for my ADHD, and some pills to help me sleep.’

Laura’s tinny voice sounds wary. ‘Which ones? Derek, ask him which ones he takes.’ she orders.  ‘Which ones do you take, Stiles?’ Derek asks obediently, but only because he’s worried out of his fucking mind. It takes Stiles a while to answer.

‘Symphony? No, Sonata. Is that possible?’

Laura’s relieved sigh knocks Derek of his feet. ‘Der, Sonata is in the non-benzodiazepine sedative hypnotic drug class.’

‘What.’

‘Don’t interrupt me. The common side effects include dizziness, and, here, short-term memory loss, or lack of coordination.

Get this; some people using Sonata have engaged in activity such as driving, eating, or making phone calls and later having no memory of the activity.’

Derek feels a little bit reassured. Only a little bit. Because now, isn’t sex with Stiles, who was under the influence of drugs, taking advantage of the situation? He feels disgusting.  

His thoughts are interrupted by Stiles, who opens the bathroom door. Steam surrounds him like an extra dramatic special effect and Derek’s mound goes surprisingly dry at the sigh.

‘Derek, hand me over to Stiles,’ Laura orders. Suddenly Derek suddenly becomes very suspicious. ‘No.’

‘Fine,’ she huffs. ‘Stiles, listen to me, okay? Don’t worry, I have a medical degree and Google is here to fill up the gaps. If you want to go on and keep using Sonata, please use when you’re planning on getting at least eight hours of sleep and if you don’t, then you should not take Sonata. That’s what Google tells me, at least.’

Stiles exhales slowly. ‘Okay,’ he says, dragging out the word and Derek feels nervous, hoping for something he can’t name yet. He still feels a little bit like he has violated Stiles, even though Sonata doesn’t influence behavior.

He ends the call.

Taking a deep breath, he goes for it. ‘I’m sorry, Stiles,’ he says carefully. ‘You should eat something, go sleep some more, but I really think you should leave.’ It sounds like a question. Stiles steps a little bit closer to him.

‘Oh, I see how it is,’ he says, and the poisonous tone of his voice makes Derek shudder. ‘Kicking me out after you found out what’s wrong with me, huh?’

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he says, pleading, hoping that his vocal cords can do the work for him and make that particular expression on Stiles’ face go away.

‘Sure you didn’t, Derek. Next time I see you, I’ll just do us both a favor and I pretend like this has never happened, okay?’ Stiles spits. He spins on his heels, grabs his shoes from the floor and marches out of the door, ignoring Derek completely, who’s just standing there feeling lost in his own feelings.

******** ** **

Two days later, Boyd marches into his apartment with a bag full of greasy Chinese while Derek is busy with his sixth round of sit-ups for the day.

‘Derek,’ he says, and his voice is drenched with repressed disapproval. ‘Boyd,’ Derek replies, and continues his sit-up. After that, he gets a few cans of beer and they start eating. They don’t have to talk.

‘All right, spill. You have that emotionally constipated look on your face again.’ Boyd says after a minute of silence.

Derek doesn’t look at him, just keeps on staring at his chicken noodles. ‘I have not.’

‘Yes, you have. ‘ Boyd says. ‘And you might as well tell me what’s wrong, you know. Or I’ll get someone who can. Laura, for example.’

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Derek says firmly, so maybe he’ll believe it himself, too. ‘Things are great. I’m looking for a song for the finals.’

Boyd’s answering snort is dripping with disbelief. ‘Uh huh,’ he says, visibly unconvinced. ‘That’s why people tell me you’ve been spending six hours a day in the gym, don’t leave your apartment anymore and that you have once again filled your fridge with salads and Ben & Jerry's. And I’m not even mentioning the fact that you’ve been ignoring every attempt at contact with the outside world, or the fact that Stiles looks like shit.’

The last part catches Derek’s attention.

‘It was after the semifinals. We hooked up.’ he says, the words bitter on his tongue. That was all it was, really. A one-night stand. Derek is no fool, and he’s not getting things in his head, especially after the whole Sonata-fiasco.

‘When we woke up, he wasn’t able to remember anything. He panicked when he saw me, thought I had roofied him or something. I called Laura, who discovered his sleeping pills caused short-term amnesia, and then... I said some stupid shit and he walked out.’ Derek mumbles, frustrated because he knows that he has fucked up. ‘You haven’t seen the look in his eyes, he hates me. After that, he just walked out the door.’

‘Listen, I don’t know much about him,  but I know one thing; he really likes you,’ Boyd says, balancing his fork on the edge of his takeout box. ‘And yes, he ran off , but consider this; he named you ‘Sourwolf’ like three weeks ago, smiles for hours after you two have talked, and he always goes to you first after every show. His friends say he talks about you all the time.

‘And I know i’m not the boss of you, but you should talk to him.’ Boyd says quietly. Derek just shakes his head. They don’t talk about it after that anymore.

******** ** **

_guess who’s i just saw at your fav place2be_

Derek stares at the text for a long four seconds. He knows exactly who Isaac’s talking about, and the thought makes his stomach twist and his heart pound in his throat.

Before he can think up a reply, Isaac has already sent him a picture. It’s Stiles, long legs folded under his body, surrounded by papers and typing away on his laptop. He’s frowning, eyes squinting concentrated at whatever it is on his screen, and Derek drinks in the sight of him. He looks tired, stressed even. His hair is messy, standing up in several directions, and there’s a black smudge that’s probably ink under his eye.

 **You know stalking is a felony, right?** Derek writes back, as he downloads the picture to his phone. **You’re being a creeper**

 _he’ll do anything for a good cinnamon spice mocha_ Isaac texts later. _it’s time you get out of the house_

Derek huffs and shoves his phone into his pocket without replying. It’s not like Stiles wants to see him, no matter what Boyd says. Derek is  sort of perfectly content to keep on pretending that that night never happened, despite the weird feeling in his stomach.

After a few minutes, he decides that he is weak, throws on his jacket, grabs his bag and, for the hell of it, heads for the cafe.

******** ** **

Jumpstart is possibly Derek’s favorite place in Beacon Hills. It’s a coffee shop, library, comic book- and bookstore in one. It’s also fairly quiet, which is one of the reasons Derek likes  much, since he dislikes crowds.

The fact that it’s early on a Monday afternoon means it’s even emptier than usual. He’s in the left corner of the coffee shop part, stuffed in a comfy chair and Derek feels incredibly idiotic all of a sudden, but he came out because he can’t just ignore Stiles forever.

He can’t just stop talking to him one of a sudden. They still have one round to go, so it’s an advantage in a purely cool and professional point of view. Derek can do cool and professional; they don’t have to make a big deal out of the fact that they slept together.

Derek heads for the counter. He’s too restless to want any caffeine for himself, but now that he knows Stiles’ favorite drink, it’s impossible for him not to order it.

He doesn’t remember the walk from the counter to Stiles’ table being this long,but Derek forces his hands to stay steady, breathes slow and even through his nose and tells himself that they can do cool and professional.

Stiles doesn’t look up from his laptop screen, not until Derek sets the mug down right in front of him.

‘Excuse me, I didn’t order that,’ Stiles says, looking up carelessly, but his expression freezes when he registers who it is he’s looking at. ‘Oh.’

Derek clears his throat, working hard to keep his voice perfectly stable through his embarrassment. ‘Obviously,’ he says. ‘I ordered it. For you.’

Stiles keeps gaping at him, and then shakes his head as if he physically can shake off his surprise about the situation. His complete attitude changes. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he snaps, eyes dark and angry staring at Derek.

Derek really doesn’t want to answer that, partly because he doesn’t know the whys and the hows himself, and busies himself with the chair next to him instead.  He realizes Stiles is still staring at him, looking more furious with the minute, waiting for his answer.  Derek searches  around  in his mind for an acceptable thing to say that won’t be creepy at all. He decides to ignore Stiles’ question completely, since the proper response on that won’t be cool and professional. Instead he just says something random.

‘The category for the finals.’ he finally says, because that’s sort of neutral territory, cool and professional, plus it has nothing to do with sex or amnesia-inducing sleeping pills or the fact that Stiles is fucking irresistible and Derek really wants to touch him right now.  

Stiles blinks owlishly at him. Obviously, this was unexpected. ‘What.’

‘You know, Your Opponents Jam or something. You already have any ideas?’

Stiles’ eyes look like his eyes are gonna pop right out of his head. ‘No..Not really. I’m kind of busy searching right now.’

‘Need any help?’

‘Not from you, obviously, Sourwolf.’ Stiles says, a smirk tugging at his lips. It’s gone as soon as Derek tries to smile back. ‘I can choose my own songs.’ Stiles says, while watching him warily, clearly waiting for some other shoe to drop and Derek thinks it’s one of the most horrible things he has ever seen, the distrust in Stiles’ eyes.

‘T-the coffee,’ Derek stutters. ‘It’s an apology. Though it doesn’t solve anything, but I just thought, and you just....you looked like you could use it.’ He exhales. ‘I really suck at this.’

Against all odds, that gets him a smile, even though it’s a small one. Derek’s chest tightens pleasantly, filled with sudden warmth.

‘Well, you certainly have your way with words, have you,’ Stiles says, reaching up to rub his long, slender fingers at his temple. Derek does his best not to watch the movement too closely. Cool and professional, Hale. Cool and professional.

Stiles leans across the table and pushes his cup of coffee in Derek’s direction, ‘Now shut up and drink this before it gets cold, grump.’

‘Ok,’ Derek grabs the mug, feeling a thousand pounds lighter. When he glances up, Stiles is looking back at him, a smile playing around his lips. He looks like the Stiles that fell through his ceiling all those weeks ago, and it makes Derek a little bit dizzy.  ‘You’re forgiven for being a grumpy weirdo,’ he says lightly.

‘You’re too kind,’ Derek replies drily. They’re good. Sort of. He just has to stop thinking about Stiles’ naked body, or the sounds he makes when he comes, soft and sweet and- no. Cool and professional. He can do it.

******** ** **

Three hours later, Derek leaves a grinning Stiles behind for a strategy talk with his band.

They’re, once again, all in his apartment. Isaac wiggles his eyebrows at him. It’s kind of a disturbing sight, if you ask Derek.  ‘And?’

Derek throws his jacket over a chair. ‘We talked,’ he says, while stealing a cookie from Isaac’s plate. ‘and he said he forgave me for being a grumpy weirdo, or something.’

‘And?’

He looks up. ‘That was it?’ he says, unsure. Erica groans and buries her face in Boyd’s shoulder. ‘You’re unbelievable.’  Boyd throws him a disapproving look, and Derek wonders what he has done wrong.

‘You are so dumb. Jesus, we’re going to have to pull out the big guns.’ Isaac mumbles with his mouth full of cookie. Derek hates them and decide that they’re done talking about his private life.

‘Okay, strategy talk time. What song are we gonna let Spiders on Speed play?’

Erica rolls her eyes at him and is clearly not satisfied enough to let the subject go, but once again Boyd saves the day. ‘Do you have any ideas?’

‘I was thinking about something Maroon 5.’ Derek grabs his laptop from the couch and opens Spotify. ‘The newest album?’ Erica asks and pulls the papers Finstock had sent them after the show from somewhere. ‘It says here that the opponent should at least have three days to prepare the song in question.’

‘How many days until the finale?’ Derek asks absently, while scrolling through his playlists. ‘Four, I believe,’ Isaac says. ‘And don’t do anything from the newest. Do the one with the colorful cover. I was thinking about Daylight.’

Boyd clears his throat. ‘Actually, I heard this song on the radio. Sam something. Slow, but catchy?’ Erica grins. ‘Oh, that one.’

She leans over Derek and yanks his laptop away from under his fingertips. ‘I’ll send the email to Finstock.’ She fluffs Derek’s hair while typing with one hand. ‘You better get the ice cream from the fridge. I threw your salads out and you have to eat something, honey.’

Derek just questions his friend choices and gets up from the couch. He can hear them whisper furiously when he sticks his head in the freezer, but he decides he probably doesn’t want to know anyway.

******** ** **

The next day, they receive an email from Finstock, telling them that the finale will take place in Harmony’s, San Francisco.

Isaac convinces (read; orders) Derek to drive both bands and he agrees, because he can do nice things, no matter what Laura says. So that’s where they’re now, two days later, in Isaac’s van. It isn’t necessary to take their own instruments, so they’ve decided to leave the drum kits and keyboards at home. Boyd insisted on bringing his own drum sticks, though.  

Stiles slides in the front seat, next to Derek, which makes him insanely happy. ‘I hate mornings,’ he whines.  ‘And I hate you,’ Isaac grumbles from where he’s burying his face in his pillow. ‘If you won’t shut up, though,’ he adds on a second thought.

‘Lies and slander, Isaac Lahey. Lies and slander.’

Everyone just rolls their eyes, and Derek turns on the radio to shut them all up. Surprisingly enough, it works.

Once they arrive at the hotel Lydia and Boyd go to sign them in, and Stiles bounces around nervously outside. Derek wants to reassure him, but he’s pretty nervous himself too.

‘We’re playing at nine,’ Lydia announces as she strolls back into the sunshine. She hands out a paper with their rooms on it, and that causes a huge ruckus under Spiders on Speed, which doesn’t stop until Derek shouts; ’Enough!’

‘You’re supposed to be a band, which means you’re supposed to like each other. It doesn’t matter who’s in what room. So why don’t we go and check out the stage instead?”

‘Good thinking, Alpha,’ Stiles whispers in his ear when he walks past him.  A few minutes later, Scott and Stiles examine the stage closely, discussing their best options under their breath, and Lydia is talking to the bartender with Jackson. Derek sits down at one of the small tables with Isaac and Allison, head somewhere else completely as he thinks about what’ll happen when the competition ends, and who will win, and everyone goes their separate ways.

‘Earth to Derek,’ Allison snaps her fingers in his face.

‘What?’

‘We’re going to dinner, you comin’ with us?’

‘No, I said I’d meet my sisters,’ Cora had called him and demanded that they had dinner together. He turns around and walks back to his room, unable to get the image of Stiles’ hopeful eyes out of his head.

They order Indian, and by the time they’ve gotten through all the late night tv, Derek’s almost forgotten about the competition, Stiles, and his nerves completely. That is, until he closes his eyes and his memories provide all the images of a smiling Stiles he’s been lucky to witness in the weeks they know each other. He opens his eyes, groans when he sees Laura staring at him, and turns to face the wall.

******** ** **

They all have a late dinner together, the atmosphere quiet and tense. Spiders on Speed is more nervous than Derek’s ever seen them before. His own band is also freaking out. Erica is stirring her coffee with a murderous expression on her face, Isaac looks vaguely green, and Boyd looks unaffected but stabs his spaghetti from time to time as if it has driven over his grandmother with a truck.

Stiles is jiggling his legs under the table, moving his feet and tapping restless rhythms along the rim of his glass. Derek rests a hand on his knee, more to stop him bouncing of his chair and climbing the walls than for anything else, but after a moment Stiles drops his hand and squeezes his fingers tightly. Derek gets all warm inside at that move, and gives a reassuring squeeze back. Stiles rewards him with a tiny smile.

‘You know,’ Scott says into the silence.  ‘We should distract ourselves. Maybe that helps with all the nerves and stuff,’

‘Absolutely not,’ Lydia dismisses firmly, and doesn’t even yield for Scott’s puppy eyes. Derek admires her strength. ‘The chances of you or Stiles hurting yourselves skyrocket the moment you two stand up.’

Jackson snorts, takes a bite of steak and throws a fond look in Lydia’s direction, who winks at him. Stiles opens his mouth, probably to object, and then shrugs, knowing wisely when he’s defeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

‘So, we’re just gonna hang for a few hours?’ Scott asks, disappointed.

Stiles clears his throat, letting go of Derek’s hand and Derek tries not to feel suddenly bereft. ‘Who wants to play violent video games and virtually smash people’s faces in?’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Isaac enthuses, reaching up to high five with Stiles. Derek’s phone rings, and the whole table turns around to stare at him.

‘What.’

‘Baby brother, I expect you to be in your room within five minutes.’ Laura’s voice bears that subtle ordering note, the one that makes her older sister. Derek ducks his head in and tries to talk as discreet as possible. ‘Not now, Laura. We’re going to do some violent video games against the nerves.’

Laura laughs. ‘Is that an euphemism for something, Der?’ He groans and buries his head in his hands. ‘Laura! Shut up, you know it isn’t.’

‘See you in five minutes.’

Derek stands up, cursing his parents decision to have another child. ‘I have to go.’ He points at his phone. ‘My sister.’ Stiles smirks. ‘Duty calls, eh?’

Derek grimaces. ‘Something like that.’

******** ** **

After a clothes-picking session with his sisters that leaves his self-esteem glowing, as well as his ears in embarrassment, he can’t take the waiting anymore and ducks out of the hall for a minute. He startles when he sees Scott sitting on the wall further down, and saunters over to him, because he’s cool and professional. Even if his insides are eating themselves from the nerves.

‘Did you get lost?’

Scott jumps, and then looks up at him guiltily. ‘No, I was just—I don’t know.’ he shrugs and  frowns at his hands. ‘What if we happens if we win, or you guys? ’

‘What are you afraid of? We won’t suddenly hate on you.’ Derek says. Sure, it’d be awesome if they won, but the experience alone is enough for him.

Scott sighs. ‘After this we’re all off for the summer, and if we win we will happy about it, but if we lose- What I’m trying to say, what if we all blame each other?’

‘They won’t. Besides, there’s gonna be a few people from record labels all over California, so even if the judges are stupid enough to let one of us go, they’ll get a deal. Mark my words.’

He puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder and pushes him towards the elevator. ‘Now go and talk to your band for a bit. See you on stage.’ He winks and turns around, steps back in his own room.

They have one final practice before the finale officially starts. The band seem unusually uncoordinated as they begin; Isaac appears to be immensely distracted, occasionally missing beats, Erica’s fingers trip a couple of times over simple notes, and Boyd goes way too fast for them all. Derek doesn’t think they’ve played this bad since the first time they came together, all those years ago. They’re a fucking mess.

Cora ruffles his hair when he joins them a couple of minutes later. ‘You know, a sucky  rehearsal is an awesome performance. Showbizz rule.’ She jumps away when he tries to pinch her. ‘Just being helpful.’

Derek would punch her if he wasn’t so busy trying not to throw up.

Finstock climbs on the stage and announces that it’s time to welcome the first band. Derek feels as if his soul is getting pulled out of his body. Laura squeezes in his shoulder. ‘C’mon, rock that stage,’ she says, nodding firmly to him. ‘You guys are amazing.’

Derek climbs up the stairs, and it feels like his feet are made out of lead. He can’t do this. He’s gonna trip and fall face forward off stage.

Erica squints her eyes at him. ‘Don’t you dare throw up over my new boots,’ she warns him. Oddly enough, it makes Derek feel a little better. He takes a deep breath. ‘I won’t.’ he says. ‘Good,’ Erica mumbles while pushing him into the light. ‘Now man up and let us take the fucking roof off this place.’ she winks. Boyd and Isaac punch him on the shoulder, and Alpha Eyes takes the stage.

The song Spiders on Speed picked for them is a song from the Killers, and they practiced harder on it that they’ve ever done before, mainly because it’s far from their usual style and they had to get used to it.

But they are fantastic. Maybe Derek is totally biased, maybe they are that fucking good. The crowd goes wild the moment the lights go off and Derek feels light-headed. He throws his head back, laughing about nothing.

He looks over to his bandmates, and they’re grinning, all infectiously triumphant. Stiles runs into him backstage, and squeezes his hand. ‘You guys were awesome,’ he says. Then he lets go and follows the rest of his band to the stage.

Spiders on Speed makes Derek’s heart race and the blood in his body flood to his ears. Erica, fucking Erica, chose a song called Stay With Me. Derek is quite familiar with the song. It’s his pining jam, as Isaac phrases it, and it tells a story that’s a tad too similar to that morning after the semifinals.

Derek really hates his friends.

The problem is that Stiles doesn’t stop looking at him, through all of the song. Derek knows he’s so fucking incredibly fucked, but he doesn’t look away.

He’s roughly pulled out of his staring contest by a man in a beautiful grey suit, that looks like he’s slept in it. ‘Derek Hale?’

‘Yeah?’ Derek says warily, because men in suits usually don’t bear good news. ‘I’m from CaliRecs, here in San Francisco, and I wanted to tell you that if your band has a demo, we would gladly listen to it.’

What.

‘You..Record label?’ Derek stammers. The man grins. ‘Yeah. When I heard you guys, I instantly knew we had to claim your band.’ he winks, and Derek feels even more stupid. The man pulls out his hand. ‘James Reeves, but call me Jimmy. If you give me your contact information, we can swap emails or something.’

Derek peels his phone out of his pocket with the speed of light. ‘Yeah-yeah, of course.’ He scrabbles his mail address and phone number on a piece of paper while the man puts his number in Derek’s phone.

‘How long are you guys in town?’ the man asks, while typing something on his phone. Derek just stares at the screen of his, completely baffled by the fact that somebody just handed them a record deal on a silver platter.

Laura gets a basket full of chocolate. He grins, thinking about the fact that he hated her so much the first minute after she’d announced that she had signed them up for a music competition. He’s forever grateful he didn’t backed out.

Spiders on Speed’s performance has ended, and Derek claps and cheers absently. The man has already left, with another wink and a pressing demand for a demo.

‘So, what did you think?’ Stiles appears from behind a pillar. Derek turns around. ‘It was awesome!’ he says. Should he tell Stiles about the record deal? He decides to wait.

‘Have you seen the rest of my band?’ he asks. Stiles shrugs. ‘Eh, they’re probably at the bar, getting smashed. Everybody is kind of nervous, again.’

Derek is already gone. ‘Thanks,’ he shouts over his shoulder to a dazed Stiles. He sprints the rest of the way to the bar. ‘Guys, guys,’ he pants, while holding up one hand. ‘Look!’ he holds up his phone, almost thrusts it in Erica’s face.

‘Derek, calm down.’ Boyd says, while putting down his beer. ‘CaliRecs? Who’re that?’ Derek flops down on a bar stool. ‘Record...label. Approached me..’ he stammers, too excited to form full sentences.

Isaac falls of his stool. ‘What?!’

Derek throws them the card the man handed him right before he ran off to god knows where. Erica almost rips it in her enthusiasm. ‘It’s real!’

‘Of course it’s real,’ Derek says, annoyed by the fact that just his word is clearly not enough, but the rest is too excited for him to really care.

Suddenly Lydia comes marching into their direction. Derek resists the urge to duck under the bar. She smiles at him, though Derek wouldn’t call it smiling as well a dangerous show of teeth and dominance.

‘Two minutes until they call out the winners.’ She turns on her heels and click-clacks away again. Derek clears his throat. ‘Let’s go, then.’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Erica jumps up. ‘Sit this one out. We don’t have to win, ‘cause we have a fucking record deal!’ She does a fistpump and then grabs Boyd to waltz with him through the bar. ‘We’re leaving,’ Derek says, unable to keep the amused sound out of his voice. Isaac snorts and takes his can grape Fanta off the bar. ‘You’re coming?’ he asks Erica and Boyd.

When they arrive in the auditorium, Finstock is already on stage, surrounded by light like some fucked up angel of truth. In his hands, he holds an envelope, the envelope, and Derek spots Stiles, whose eyes are glued to the hands of the host. He walks over to him and smiles when Stiles says, voice distant; ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘So, nervous?’ Derek asks. Okay, make small talk. He sucks at small talk. Cool and professional, Hale. Cool and professional. Stiles snorts. ‘What do you think?’

Derek breathes in and decides to grabs life by the balls. He intertwines his fingers with Stiles’ long ones, and squeezes. ‘There’s no need for that. You guys were amazing.’

‘What about your own band? Am I talking to a disloyal Alpha right here?’ Stiles teases, with his eyes still locked on the envelope. Derek shrugs, trying really hard to play casual, but struggling against the desire to impress Stiles immensely at the same time.

‘We just got a record deal.’

On stage, Finstock is thanking everybody who has made the competition possible, and Derek spots Erica and Boyd somewhere in front of the stage. Erica is still dancing.

Stiles yanks his hand out of Derek’s, much to his dismay, to look at him with wide eyes. He punches him on the shoulder. ‘What? You’re kidding me!’

Mission accomplished, he thinks smugly. He takes the business card out of his pocket. ‘I would never. Here.’ he says, and thrusts the small, cream-colored card into Stiles’ hand, who scans it, eyes narrowed and focused. Derek really likes those eyes.

In the meanwhile, Finstock has finished his talk. Music starts playing, and an introduction talk begins, about how hard the bands have worked and no matter who wins tonight, the experience is what counts.

Stiles has handed the card back to Derek and begins gnawing at his nails. Derek gently takes his hands out of his mouth and links their hands together again. Stiles calms down, to some degree.

‘...and now we’ve reached the big moment,’ Finstock shouts, even though there’s a microphone in front of his face. Half of all the people in the audience cringes. ‘The winner of The Ultimate Unsigned Contest is...Spiders On Speed! Let’s give them a marvelous applause, people!’

Stiles’ mouth hangs open and Derek’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest every moment.  ‘C’mon, go get your prize,’ he says, while shoving the drummer forward. Stiles stumbles onto stage, where the rest of his band tackles him into a group hug even Jackson joins. Derek thinks he’s never going to stop smiling.

When they’re all on stage and Finstock has handed over the trophy, he hushes them and takes the microphone again.

‘Now, the prize is not just this shiny goodie here,’ he gestures to the trophy in a beaming Scott’s hand, ‘but also a record deal with CaliRecs, here in San Francisco!’

The applause that follows is deafening.

After all the winning fuss has taken care off, Stiles bounces through the crowd. He leaves a man in a Sheriff uniform behind, who has to be Stiles’ father, judging by the similar twinkle in their eyes.

He stops in front of Derek, who feels again that feeling that this might be the tipping point, the climax they were all so anticipating. Suddenly he knows what to do, and he’s sure that he won’t fuck up this time.

Derek cuts the distance between them, fists his hand in Stiles’ graphic t-shirt of the day, and kisses him. Stiles tries to talk for a moment and Derek kisses him harder, pushing his words away and brings over his message in the only way he knows.

Stiles’ hands slide up Derek’s shoulders and pull him in, the kiss still frantic and desperate, but oh so satisfying. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat and Derek gets a flashback to that one night they had together, and all the sounds Stiles had made back then. He wants to hear them again. His hands slide down, only to stop on the curve of Stiles’ ass. Stiles groans and Derek shudders, pleased with the noise.

Then he remembers that they’re in public.

He untangles himself from Stiles, and rests his forehead against his. Stiles is grinning that infuriating grin of his, big and infectious.

‘Looks like you’re not going to get rid of me for a while.’

‘Who says I wanted that? Maybe I like the guitar solos and putting IKEA furniture together at four in the morning.’

Stiles’ eyes are a warm shade of amber and he smiles softly. ‘Good,’ he says, burying his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. ‘Cause I like your grumpy jerkface way too much to miss all that.’

Derek doesn’t like surprises. Scratch that, he hates them. Except one. Because he really likes the guy that fell through his ceiling, all those weeks ago. And he’s never letting him go.

Maybe he should send Laura a fruit basket.


End file.
